Mallachd
by code name baron
Summary: Wasabi Gang had many adventures and many a foe, but they haven't met a danger like this before. Is it a curse, a ghost, a demon? Their sense of logic is tested, just as their bonds are. - AU set during Meet the McKrupnicks. Neither Kick nor the Yoshimi possession happened yet. Mallachd means curse in Scottish Gaelic.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: I've been crazy busy and couldn't focus on writing. But now I have an easier schedule, so I went through my scribbling and, I don't know, maybe because it was Halloween and I binged on _Penny Dreadful_ , but here is the story about ghosts. I hope it'll be different from _Possession._

* * *

Scotland in summer was surprisingly warm.

Kim, who was chilly on the plane ride and had snagged a second blanket for herself just to keep her toes warm, quickly shed the light jacket. The Wasabi Gang boarded two cars and started the trek to the McKrupnick estate - the Turlann Castle. She was impressed by the name and was expecting a place similar to Hogwarts, with spiky turrets and impenetrable walls. Or maybe something like from Wuthering Heights - dark and imposing and desolate.

Milton was excited for this family reunion and, perhaps, enjoyed being the center of attention. He regaled them with stories of his extended clan and their history, which was storied and long. His family lived at the estate for generations and had plenty of family lore that sounded almost like tall tales and fairy fables. There were lairds, clansmen, bonny lasses; there were wars and skirmishes; there was a family feud with the neighbors... There was even a story about a curse and a ghost.

Milton was well equipped to tell a good story and spun a saga of the lovers long gone, the house haunted from time to time, mysterious noises, sightings, murmured words, shadowed figures, strange water marks where there should be none, and people sometimes going mad because of terrible dreams. It wasn't clear if it just a family lore or if it really happened. Milton milked the drama and suspense and wouldn't admit if it was just a legend or some distant past. Still, he sounded so skeptical, ever the logical one, that she brushed it off as an amusing anecdote with a hint of mockery for the outlandishness of the claims.

They were pretty tired after the flight and slowly the conversation petered out. She brought a Kindle with her and when the scenery outside became a little too dull, she turned to her reading and lost herself in the trials and tribulations of the doomed love of Cathy and Heathcliff.

She loved the story, the tension, the high melodrama... Sure, the characters were quite flawed and sometimes downright evil, but Kim could recognize the rarity of the emotion so strong, so undeniable that these same characters dove into it with few reservations. And, yes, love like this wasn't healthy, but it wasn't ordinary either.

What it would be like to experience something so strong and overwhelming? Being a young teen came with new awareness of oneself and others in ways that didn't exist before. Gone were exciting, but short lived, crushes on cute boys. Instead her eyes lingered on couples around her trying to figure what sort of story they shared, what made them chose one another, what made them stay...

She stole glance at Jack, who shared a ride with her and Milton. In years that she's known him, Jack both changed and yet remained the same. He was taller, stronger and more handsome than before. He also was less cocky and at times showed remarkable maturity. But he was still the same boy who loved to laugh and look his role of the informal leader or the Wasabi Gang with grumbling acceptance.

She was glad that her crush on him faded, leaving in it's stead a quiet regard and affection. She would always have a soft spot in her heart for Jack and the boys. They've been through so many adventures together and she knew him as the back of her hand. It was nice to have left the crush behind.

Almost.

She wasn't _quite_ as jittery anymore at the prospect of being near him. She didn't get _too_ jealous when he went on dates. She could watch him spar without drooling over his arms _most_ of the times.

And yet... Sometimes, if she were honest, when he looked at her in certain way, or when he did something smart and noble, she'd admit that the butterflies in her belly weren't entirely gone.

His profile was chiseled and somehow his hair was still impressively bouncy after the flight. He saw her looking and gave her a quick smile that warmed the hazel eyes and she quickly averted her gaze. Better not have another butterflies-ridden moment, she thought and went back to Heathcliff, who wasn't warm or noble.

Soon the lack of sleep and a jetlag caught up with her and she drifted to sleep, her head falling on the shoulder of her companion.

* * *

She was inside a large room with painted plaster walls and crumbling molding all around. Through the slightly ajar door she could see a large claw-foot tub, with faded black of the iron body and worn bronze of the feet. It sounded like the tub was being filled and she thought she saw the steam of the vapor rising slowly.

She heard a noise and turned around, suddenly seeing a man sitting in huge wing back chair by a lit fireplace. He had longish wavy hair that was more silver that brown and his face had the weathered look of someone who enjoyed the outdoors. He was dressed in a robe and slippers. It would seem that he was asleep or dozing off and she thought that he must have been tired to have forgotten about the running water. Then she noticed a deep red chesterfield desk nearby with a decanter of dark amber liquid and an empty tumbler. Now it made sense that he was sleepy. She heard a noise again, a creak behind them, and she turned to find nothing. The noise woke the man up and he grumbled something about old bones, old houses. subtle shifting, clanging pipes, that loose board that even on still nights echoed something that sounded all too much like a footstep, that dripping tap that could never be found...

He shifted in his chair and passed a broad hand over his face. He took a healthy gulp of his drink, clearly savoring the flavor and she almost could taste the burn of alcohol on her own tongue. The picture before her was comforting: a man who lived a long life, a warm fireplace, a good drink, a hot bath waiting... But something felt wrong. Like the picture had the wrong focus or maybe something was missing... She shivered at the sudden cold and wondered why the fireplace wasn't making this room warm... The shivers grew as if the cold was seeping slowly into her very bones making her a little afraid... But there was nothing here to be frightened of... A feeling, like an old memory, long buried, scratched the back of her mind, lurking like a dream that one couldn't quite remember upon waking and that disappeared faster than the morning fog. She shook her head. It's nothing. Nothing at all.

A sudden loud creak made both her and the man start, making him slosh his drink onto his trousers. He cursed, half laughing at himself for his clumsiness, and blotted at the stain with his handkerchief. Another creak made him look up, and the smile froze onto his face.

The man spoke a single word-

"No."

And she turned around...

* * *

If Jack Brewer could have chosen one word to describe the Turlann estate, it would be... Sprawling. Two words? Sprawling and chaotic. As the car rounded the last corner of the winding, tree lined driveway and the manor (could you call it that?) came into view, Jack's first thought was that the photographs that Milton showed them came nowhere close to doing it justice. The photograph had shown only the central part of the building, with a great wall and a tower, hiding a large, grey stone mansion. However it had failed to take in what surrounded it.

Milton, next to a driver in the passenger seat, noticed John's expression and explained, "The tower and the wall was all that remained from the original main castle Turlann. The mansion part of the current estate was built in 1753 by Aibne McKrupnick as a country house for his family. Each generation that moved in added something else. They kept building extensions and features and what you see before you now..." Milton wrinkled his nose, "a proof that planning ahead is always advisable."

Jack thought it was glorious.

Flanking the house were later extensions, vast, extending beyond the mansion, fairy tale-like structures in red brick and glass. One had a turret. On the left side, another red brick building grew out of the Victorian one, long and small-windowed, crowned with a brass weathervane. A winding cast iron staircase led to the door, oddly located on the second floor. On the other side rose a neo-gothic tower covered in moss.

A fountain in front of the building pattered softly around the feet of the statue of a woman, bending, washing her bronze hair. More statues were scattered haphazardly around the entrance, their asymmetrical placing giving them an eerily naturalistic look, as though a group of revelers had been frozen where they stood. Outside the gothic tower, two tall pine trees swayed softly in the breeze.

As the car crunched over the gravel of the driveway and came to a stop beside the fountain, Jack caught sight of what looked like a pagoda about two hundred yards away from the main building. He shook his head with a smile as he climbed out of the car and stretched his cramped legs. This place was insane and impressive. Still, he had to admit there was something forbidding about it. Even in the bright warmth of a July day the stone facade radiated pure cold, and the sunlight glinting off the many windows only served to give the house a baleful look. Jack shook off the creeping feeling of apprehension and turned to open the back door to wake Kim.

She was folded over like a rag doll in the back seat, her head resting on an open book. Her light hair fanned out over the seat, hiding her face. Jack smiled fondly. As he leaned forward to pull the handle, Jerry pounded on the window with his fist and Kim awoke with a startled gasp.

"Wake up Kim, we're here!" he bellowed. Jack sighed and went around the back to help him with the bags.

Kim, wide eyed and disheveled, squeaked in fear and took several shaky breaths. Jerry laughed at having scared her, and Jack was about to join in when he saw a genuine fear in her eyes, which caused irritation with Jerry rise in him.

He hit Jerry upside the head and quickly came to her side and helped her out of the car. "Are you alright?" he asked quietly.

She smiled wanly, "Just a dream... I'm fine."

She climbed down from the landrover as the boys bickered over the luggage. Looking up at the manor before her, she looked as though she were still in a dream: eyes wide in awe and apprehension. She met the blank gaze of a statue and wrapped her light jacket tighter around herself, shivering in the summer heat.

* * *

A heavy brass bell-pull hung in the doorway, but as Milton reached for it it the door creaked open. In the doorway stood a pretty, dark haired girl with sallow skin and full, pouting rosebud lips. She was wearing a maid's uniform. Jack's jaw unhinged itself.

"Good afternoon," she said, her low voice tinged with the heavy dose of an accent that was somehow both similar and not to the Scottish brogue they've been hearing. "Mr. Krupnick and party? The Laird has been expecting you. Let me show you to the drawing room."

"She's not Scottish, is she? The accent- I mean, it sounds so different!" Kim muttered to Milton as they followed the maid through the gloomy entrance hall. "She's an actual maid! I didn't know they even still wore those uniforms!"

"She's from the islands. They retained a lot of Gaelic and therefore the brogue is far more pronounced there," Milton said absently, his eyes darting as he took in their surroundings, "And as for the uniform... This is a country estate of a Scottish laird. I guess it's traditional. Ah, Sir McKrupnick!" he exclaimed as they entered the vast drawing room. A tall, ruddy faced and red haired man, who was standing by the fireplace, turned to greet them. A thin, straight-backed woman rose from her chair as well. She was in her mid sixties, with a shrewd, wrinkled face and bright hazel eyes. Her steel grey hair was pulled back in a chignon. The man approached them in measured steps and pulled Milton into a brief embrace. The lady strode forward and shook Milton's outstretched hand firmly.

"Welcome, young Milton. I trust you had a pleasant journey?"

"Yes, thank you. These are my friends and dojo-mates. Jack Brewer, Kim Crawford, Jerry Martinez and our sensei Rudy Gillespie. My friends, this is Laird Alistair McKrupnick. He holds the title and will be hour host. This is Lady Fiona McKrupnick."

"It's a pleasure to meet you," the lady of the house greeted them all in turn. Jack was disarmed by her strong handshake and grinned at her nervously.

"Do please take a seat, I shall have Isla fetch some tea."

* * *

Kim had been surprised when the tea arrived not in bone china, but in sturdy mismatched mugs. She wrapped her hands around hers gratefully. Despite the heat outside, the drawing room held a slight chill. She listened as laird (which was like a lord of the manor and an actual noble title!) regaled them with the stories of old glory days of McKrupnicks through history. Some of it was a repetition of Milton's stories, although they sounded far more interesting and compelling when told in the gentle brogue of the highlander.

"I do hope you will enjoy your stay here. We have a gathering every couple of years. Not just the family, but everyone who hails from these lands. There shall be games and merriment and hearty meals for all. We even have neighbors, who joins us for games and such."

"You mean the McCrarys? I thought you don't get along with them?" Milton quickly asked.

"Nay, 'tis a history now. We used to feud, long time ago. But enough time passed that old grudges don't matter any more."

"Why did you feud in the first place?" Jack asked.

"Oh, the usual. Goats that got lost, land that has gone fallow, some young people cross in love... The usual for neighbors. There was even talk of curses," here the laird winked at them clearly thinking this to be an amusing tale of the past.

"Laird McKrupnick," Rudy leaned forward in his chair, "Milton's been telling us tales, stories of this place being haunted-"

"I heard them from my folks! I suspected that they merely tried to entertain me," Milton interjected.

"- but could this be actually true?" Rudy finished despite interruption.

Alistair McKrupnick smiled a little.

"Ahh... Those tales do persist. There weren't any sightings for a long time. A _cailleach_ told my mother that there shan't be any as the _sgaile_ has to find it's twin here in this world. Last time it happened, a poor man was found drowned in a locked room while sitting near a fireplace."

Kim shuddered at the memory of her dream and gasped involuntarily, "D-drowned? How?"

Milton spoke before the laird and the lady could answer, "What are the _kahlich_ and _gale?"_

Laird smiled merrily, "Lad, your father hadn't taught you that yet. _Cailleach_ is a witch and _sgaile_ is a spirit that appears after death of a woman. A ghost. As for how the man died-" he trailed off and shook his head. "There was a full tub of water in his bathroom. I reckon he was drowned there and then placed by the fireplace. Back then there was no police to investigate and people filled in the gaps. It was easier to blame the curse, a ghost and neighbors than to think that one of your own were criminals."

Milton visibly perked, "So it was just a common murder?"

Jack and Jerry mumbled ' _common murder_ ' between each other, half surprised by, half laughing at Milton's nonchalance.

Rudy looked relieved. Kim though... Kim was more cold than ever and couldn't quite shake the dream out of her head. How strange that her mind would go there...

Milton rose from his seat, "Anyhow. I think we better settle in our rooms now. We had a long flight and the ride was tiresome."

"Yes, lad. Your are right. Let me show you lads to your bedrooms. And you, young lass, Isla shall show your where you'll sleep."

By the time Kim reached her room she was afraid she forgot the way up there and was sure she'd need to call for a guide again. Her rooms had a beautiful window and overlooked a lake. The view was tranquil and picture perfect and Kim quickly went to the window to take in the scenery.

"Would that be all, miss?" the maid voice interrupted Kim's reverie and she turned around. It was only now that she took in the actual room. It was older and had plastered walls with faint faded pattern on them. Elaborate molding, with worn paint, decorated the high ceilings. A fireplace, unlit in the current heat of the summer, was to her right and she was sure she had her own en-suit bathroom.

She slowly walked to the left and peeked into the adjacent room. As she suspected, a large cast iron tub with claw feet dominated the airy room.

She shivered again in the light breeze...

A/N: yay? nay? so-so? Let me know...


	2. Chapter 2

A/: Thank you for kind and encouraging words. Here is the second chapter of the story.

* * *

Before Kim could even say anything, there was a sound of commotion and raised voices down the hall and she and Isla stepped into the hallway.

Isla knew the way and they reached another bedroom, larger than her own, where Jack and Milton were meant to stay. By now she realized that they were in a guest wing of the manor, the one closer to the lake, which was marginally better that thinking she needed a map to find her room.

"Now who in the world thought it was a good prank?" Laird Alistair was saying frowning at the scene before him.

"Well, now this is very interesting," Milton exclaimed as Kim cleared through the door to the room similar to her own, with plastered walls and a fireplace. She swept the room quickly with a look before entering. Jack was lingering at the door as well and she took in the room.

It was... wet. There was water on the floor and the walls seemed damp. Even if they weren't, Kim could smell the faint aroma of the standing water, like a pond or... a lake.

She took another lungful of the humid air and saw Jack looking at her.

"You smell it too?"

She nodded mutely and heard the Laird instructing Isla to inform Lady Fiona and start preparing a new room. Isla said something quickly under the breath and then turned on her heel and run down the hall. Kim was sure she heard a murmur of _sgaile_ and _bocan._ She heard _sgaile_ before and she suspected that the second foreign word meant something similar.

In the meantime Milton was in midst of the examination. He had such a scientific mind, such attention to detail and a process... The room smelled stagnant, like a fishpond in high summer. The windows looked like they were dirty and she saw Milton peer at them and then scratch the window. She came closer and did the same. There was no doubt about it: the window was clouded with dry algae.

"How is it possible?" she asked no one in particular.

"Freaky shit," Jack said from behind her and she jumped a little, the back of her neck growing goosebumps. She turned quickly and almost lost her balance, only for Jack to catch her by the waist.

There was a small suspended moment where they stayed connected and she wondered yet again at how much he's grown. He now towered over her. Her palms were on his chest and she felt the flex of the strong muscle and the traitorous butterflies stirred to life again.

"Y-yes... Freaky," she mumbled and stepped away.

"There is nothing untoward, young ones. Just someone's ill-conceived idea of a prank, nothing else," the Laird McKrupnick was quite put out and looked disapprovingly at everything. "We shall prepare your new rooms, lads." He left the room with murmurs of _hooligans_ and _ne'er-do-goods_.

Milton had switched into full analysis mode. He was darting from place to place muttering, looking closely at things, nearly bumping his nose at various surfaces. He even pulled his phone and started typing quickly.

"Why was there lake water in this room? Do you really think it was a prank?" Rudy looked around frantically as if expecting attack any moment now. "What if it was, you know, the _ghosts?"_ he whispered the last part in exaggerated fashion and shuddered.

Jack looked up at the ceiling and the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. The chandelier was rusted as if it was very old, older than it should have been. Thick spider wedding and gossamer threads were hanging from it. The effect was odd, almost pretty and yet spooky; there was something so haunting about it that Jack felt an immediate impulse to leave the room. He shrugged the feeling off attributing it to Rudy's reaction and the strangeness of the place.

Until he turned to look at Milton, and it returned threefold.

Their super smart friend was standing in the middle of the room, his hands by his sides. He looked utterly, utterly perplexed.

Jack couldn't remember ever having seen Milton looking like he didn't know the answer.

"And ideas what went on here?" he asked hopefully.

"Ahm..." Milton turned distractedly, lingering on a thought. "Yes," he said finally, straightening up and masking his confusion in one easy movement. "One, it's a prank like the laird said; two, it's a problem with the water supply here."

"Oh," Jack relaxed. "Great."

Milton looked close again and placed his hand flat to the wall. His brow furrowed.

"What is it?" Jack asked.

"Still wet..." Milton turned to him. "It's quite warm, and the walls are still wet."

"Well, this is plaster. How long does it stay wet?"

"No idea, but I suspect it wasn't wet when the room was assigned to us. We'll figure it out."

"Let's go find out where they gonna put us," Jack said and they went to leave.

Kim was walking right behind him, so he heard her mumble, "And people went mad because of dreams here..."

He turned and took her hand, "You don't believe ghost and curses stories, do you?"

"...No. Just... Isn't it strange though? The laid told us of the drowned man and here is your room... all wet."

"Hey, he also said there was full tub of water. Maybe it was a prank. Maybe it was just the leaky pipes. This place is so old and who know what they use for plumbing here. Maybe they use that lake water."

"Maybe..."

"You shouldn't pay too much attention to all this ghost nonsense. And maybe not read your Gothic chick lit."

"Gothic chic lit? Do you even know what it is?"

"Sure I do. You've read that book several time already."

Kim looked floored that Jack noticed her reading habits. "It's Gothic only in a sense of the mystery and scenery, but there were no ghosts there."

"Uh-huh... Just volatile and obsessive men. You don't like that, do you?"

She was quiet for a while, looking at him with impossibly dark eyes, "...No."

There was something in the depth of those eyes that reached to him, through him, into him... He felt like her eyes were all he could see and they were mesmerizing... Like he could drown in them...

"If this keeps going on, I'm leaving on the first flight oughtta here," Rudy pronounced from the hall and Jack was shaken out of his trance.

Jerry looked inside the room and quickly crossed himself with muttered prayer. "I'm gon' come with you, Rudy. No one messes with the other world."

His words sounded ominous and Jack cursed silently. He felt like he almost convinced Kim that there was nothing strange happening here, but Rudy and Jerry ruined it.

He walked Kim back to her room and wondered what that little incident just now was. It has been a while since he crushed on Kim. She was cute and bright and sassy when they met and he quickly fell into a crush. They eventually became friends and it took away the mystery and awe. She was still cute and bright and sassy, but she also was the girl with whom he shared nearly everything and it was comfortable and reliable and just... affectionate.

Ever since he hit puberty hard - his voice dropped, he hit a growth spurt, had ravenous appetite, and discovered that girls could really excite him - his crushes changed too. He no longer noticed cute girls. Now he looked for sexy girls, the kind that knocked you off your feet. Gorgeous, aloof, mysterious, exciting... He had a string of dates with girls like that and he discussed his victories and losses with the Gang and there was no awkwardness between him and Kim. She was a friend, first and foremost...

So why did he almost got lost in her eyes just now?

* * *

Kim was running a bath when boys and Laird Alistair went to check the pump that brought water to the manor. According to their host, the manor used underground water for all their needs and there should not have been any algae in it. Still, the incident warranted checking if only to exclude the issues with the water supply. The Laird still was convinced that someone played a practical joke, although he admitted it was quite elaborate and hard to execute without anyone noticing.

The water heater and pump, as well as other utilities, were located in a long redbrick building they had seen on arrival. Kim heard them banging up the iron stairs to the door, talking, Jack's voice carrying better than Milton's and Laird's voice was too accented for her to decipher. Kim could make out the words 'rusty' 'old' and 'idiot'. She turned off the tap and tested the water.

Despite the warmth of the day, she felt chilled and wanted to both clean herself after the trip and to wash off the constant cold.

Kim slipped off the white terrycloth robe that had come with the room (amazing) and climbed into the bath, gasping as her skin reacted to the steaming water. She lay back full length and rested her head against the rim of the tub. She had brought a book in with her, but for the moment she lay still, eyes closed, letting the heat work the tension from her body. The room was silent, save for the low hum of voices in the other room, and the tap dripping with a steady 'plink' into the water at her feet.

'plink'

'plink'

Kim's relaxed expression began to shift slowly toward discontent.

'plink'

This was a form of torture in some cultures, wasn't it? That damn tap...

'plink'

Kim's eyes snapped open and she surged forward in annoyance to tighten the guilty faucet, and stopped. The water-stained brass tap wasn't the source of the irritating leak. The water dripping into the bathwater was coming from above. Each droplet stained the water with a tinge of murky greenish brown. Kim wrinkled her nose in distaste. She looked up. Sure enough, a large damp stain in the ceiling above the bathtub was weeping droplets of dirty water. Leaky tank, Kim thought, as she heaved herself up and began to towel off. There was a definite stagnant smell from the water on her skin. She would have to shower in the en-suite before dressing. How revolting... An ominous creak made her glance up at the ceiling once more. The damp patch had begun to swell. Kim reached for her bathrobe, and the lights went out.

* * *

Jack was unpacking his suitcase when he heard Kim scream. He registered Milton's startled jerk, but was already moving past him at a speed, headed towards her room. Milton dropped his own bag and followed. He door was thrown open and he moved to the bathroom door just as Jerry threw his full weight against it. The door buckled slightly, but didn't give. Kim's hysterical screams continued behind it.

"Kim, unlock the door!" Jerry shouted just as Jack pushed him out of the way.

"I'm almost certain she would have, if she could," he muttered, before kicking the door hard, aiming at the locks. He did it one more time and the lock splintered. The door caved open and suddenly his arms were full of warm, damp, trembling flesh as Kim careened out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel and fell straight into him. She clawed at his chest, eyes wide.

"There's somebody in there! Please get me... There was somebody in there with me, the lights-"

"Wait here!" Jack took the distraught girl by the shoulders and gently but firmly pushed her towards Milton.

The bathroom was still in darkness when Jack entered, but with the vague light filtering in around the door his eyes began to adjust in seconds. He scanned the room quickly, mind catching the details even as his heart beat wildly.

Only points of entry were the door (discarded, locked from inside) and the window (high, ten foot, wall smooth, no handholds).

'plink'

Jack's eyes flicked to the bathtub. It was still full. The water was dark, clouded. His nose twitched. It smelled the same as the room they were planning to stay in originally. Identical, even.

The surface of the water was undisturbed save for a droplet breaking the surface rhythmically, 'plink plink plink plink plink.'

Jack looked up at the dark ceiling to find the source of the droplets and abruptly, they ceased. He looked back down at the bathwater just as a single bubble rose to the surface. Without a moment's hesitation he plunged both arms into the tub.

* * *

Milton led Kim to the couch. She was shaking violently, her wet hair dripping down her back. He sat her down and took her small hand in his.

"Kim," he said gently, "Tell me exactly what happened."

He felt her pulse racing under his fingers. Her pupils were wide with fear.

"There was a leak in the ceiling. I-I d-don't know. The lights went out and then... I couldn't see a thing and- and-"

Kim took a deep, shuddering breath, "There was... Someone there. In the dark with me. I tried to get to the door and they pulled me back, pulled my hair, they were strong. Is Jack in there? Tell him to be careful, please!"

"Jack!" Milton called.

Jack appeared around the doorway. He was soaked.

"Hmm?"

"Did you find them?"

Jack looked perplexed, "Who?"

Milton and Kim looked up at him, "Someone was in the room. Kim said..."

"Oh..." he shrugged. "There's nobody in there."

"But I felt it," Kim protested, "I felt somebody touch me!"

Jack quickly approached her. He lifted her wet hair away from her neck.

"Well, I never..." he said softly, his finger tracing something on her skin. Milton craned his neck to see what Jack was looking at.

On Kim's thin shoulder was an unmistakable pattern. Fingerprint bruises just beginning to redden her pale skin. Milton gasped and saw Jerry cross himself again. The tendril of unease was clawing through him and he looked up at Jack, expecting his intrepid friend to take a lead on this.

"Excuse me," Jack's voice was strained and his face was tight with obvious tension.

He turned on his heel and left the room. They heard the door slam.

Milton met her frightened eyes.

"Would you like some tea? Coffee? Warm milk?"

* * *

Jack let his head fall back against the door and shut his eyes. He breathed deeply for a minute then straightened up, running his hands through the wet hair. His mind was racing. He couldn't remember feeling this strange before. His brain was taking all the usual routes, trying to identify the enemy or a danger, exploring every possibility, but at the end of each corridor, instead of a feasible solution, lay a perplexing blank. It made him feel sick, like missing a step in the dark.

And there was something else too.

Clouding his mind was an all too recent image he couldn't seem to shake. Kim, her face pale, her eyes like molten pools, the way her skin felt when she collapsed into his arms... He had taken her fine-boned shoulders in his hands. They felt so fragile, and so small. He wanted to wrap her for safety and he wanted to dig his finger into the warm skin to make her _feel_ him... Jack looked down at his hands, and was surprised to see them trembling. He raised an eyebrow.

Why was he reacting this way? He held her before too... Her touch should not have been so... discomposing.

He closed his eyes again. The image of the delicate nape of her neck when he touched the marks was burned into his consciousness. Tender, velvety, creamy, ugly red marks... His hands balled into fists and he squeezed tight. She was affecting his focus. He needed to redirect his thoughts.

After a few more deep breaths, Jack opened his eyes. The image had faded comfortably into the background, though it did take more effort than he would like to admit.

* * *

Kim was sitting on the couch fully clothed when Jack entered the sitting room. Apparently, Laird Alistair was informed as well because he was in Kim's room too making it feel crowded. Kim and Milton were drinking tea (just how long was he out trying to compose himself?), while Rudy and Jerry tried to convince the Laird that he should cancel the gathering altogether.

"Coming?" Jack asked, taking his sunglasses from the table.

"Where?" Milton put down his cup.

"I'm going to the lake. I need the fresh air now. And maybe we can confirm that the lake water was used here."

This was as good a plan as any. Laird Alistair grumbled, but was eager to convince his guests that it was all a big misunderstanding and the group trudged to the lake.

For his part, Jack hoped that fresh air would clear his mind. Two times in a row he was affected by Kim and her presence in ways he hadn't been before.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: thank you for your comments. We getting deeper into the supernatural here. Bear in mind that our characters are not sure what is going on. So, confusion and defensiveness happen.

* * *

The walk to the lake should have been a pleasant one. It was still warm, the sun much lower in the sky but still casting a beautiful golden light over the grounds. Dragonflies zipped through the overgrown grass. Despite the idyllic surroundings a heavy atmosphere had settled over all of them. Rudy stayed at the manor trying to find the first flight out. The laird argued that Kim's adventure was just another prank. His face suggested that Kim might have exaggerated the experiences. Milton couldn't shake off the uncertain creeping feeling that had come over him when he witnessed Jack's confusing reaction just now. And he wasn't the only one, because Jerry looked at Jack pensively every now and then. Kim, who wasn't willing to remain alone in her room and came with them, was quiet, compulsively touching the bruises on her shoulder, and Jack was projecting an air of 'don't touch me, don't even talk to me' so effectively that the others stayed at least ten paces behind him the whole way.

The lake was a vast expanse of still water almost a half mile from the main house. A small wooden jetty led from a boat house on its banks, and an ancient row boat with peeling blue paint bobbed gently in the water beside it. The smell of the lake, that same greenish, stagnant smell as the boys' bedroom and the bathroom after Kim's attack was amplified by the warmth of the day.

"Nice down here, isn't it?" the Laird commented with a forced brightness to Kim. She smiled weakly.

"Do we have to stay in that room tonight?" she asked him. "I don't think I feel safe there. There must be more spare bedrooms in this place."

The Laird smiled at her and reached out to squeeze her arm reassuringly.

"Don't you worry, lass. It is being arranged. Whoever did this trick, we shall find them."

"Jack! Jerry!" Milton called from the end of the jetty.

"I overheard," he said quietly when the boys reached him. "We can't keep changing rooms. We can't feed into hysteria."

"Hysteria?" Jerry looked at him incredulously. "You and I both saw it: Kim is bruised to pieces! You saw that..."

"There was no one there, guys. Think of it. The power of the mind over the body is far greater than most believe," Milton muttered, kneeling to dip a finger into the lake water.

"I don't think that Kim just-" Jack went on.

"There was no one there! You checked it yourself! And think about it: you heard the Laird. It was probably a prank!" Milton straightened up and glanced over at Kim, sitting crosslegged by the boat house pulling up tufts of grass. He lowered his voice, "The true ascendancy of hysteria is well documented. The witch trials in Salem, girls found bite marks and scratches on their skin... Patients in psychiatric hospitals were able to make writing appear on their backs under observation with their hands restrained... It's all there, Jack. Kim is more susceptible than we thought. The stories and the manor are getting to her."

"You really think so?" Jack looked thoughtful for a while trying to reconcile the events of the past two hours with his own impressions. "Now come to think of it, she did mention something about dreams driving people mad. Remember your stories during car ride? She even had a bad dream in the car... I told her not to read those Gothic books."

"And the Laird told us the story about drowning man... Of course. Maybe I shouldn't have told them..." Milton looked dismayed.

"I examined that room. There was no way in other than through the door, which was locked. The lights went out, she panicked. Those ghost stories that you and everyone here is eager to tell must have got inside her head. She must have struggled out of the bath in the dark and hurt herself by accident."

They were silent after that, the rationality of Jack's explanation sinking in.

"Do you think we should just all go or send her home?" Jerry offered, looking at their blonde friend, who stared at the lake.

"It'll take time to find another flight. It's not like this place is so easily accessible," Jack said with a frown.

"Of course," Milton sighed. "Right. We'll keep an eye on her."

* * *

Back at the guest wing of the building, Milton went straight to reading up on the causes of strange hysteria and sightings, mumbling about poisons and odorless gases, mentioning the algae and its spores. It was clear he thought the source of Kim's experiences was some chemical reaction. Their new room was spacious enough to accommodate a sitting area and they all hung out together, seeking comfort in numbers. So, while Milton was researching, others could have their conversation on the other side of the room without disturbing their friend.

"Do we have to stay here, in this wing?" Kim looked at Jack pleadingly, her voice practically a whisper.

"Just one more night," Jack was apologetic. He took Kim's small hand in his, "We'll be just across the hall. We'll leave our door open. If anything happens just wake us up."

"Milton doesn't believe me, does he?" Kim's eyes were downcast now, her long eyelashes grazing her cheeks. He looked away. "He must think I'm insane."

"No, no..." Jack said weakly. He felt guilty himself, because it was his explanation that convinced others.

"Do you think I'm insane?" Huge and limpid eyes were looking straight at him. He looked away again afraid of losing himself again,

"I think... I think that this house has a funny effect on people. I haven't felt quite right since we got here myself," Jack mumbled quietly and saw Kim's fingers moved over the cardigan, slightly pulling it off the shoulder.

The bruises had turned a dark, angry purple colour. _Self-inflicted, they were self-inflicted_. That same strange mix of protective tenderness and possessive desire to touch rose in him.

He got up and joined Milton, who was jotting something on the notepad.

Jack went to bed at midnight, having seen Kim to her room. She was hesitant to be alone, but obviously they were all tired and he left her curled up on the chair reading her book. He pointedly left his bedroom door open, and shot Kim a reassuring smile before disappearing inside. He was still keeping a tight reign over his own reaction to her half-naked, which made him forcefully think of the incidents with water. The strangeness was something he tried to explain away in a rational way, but every now and then the sensory memory of her skin and softness would eclipse everything and he had to shake his head.

* * *

Once Jack disappeared int his bedroom, Kim was alone. For some reason she found it more of a comfort to be in the chair than her bed. The room was different and had a modern bathroom with a shower stall instead of a tub. Still she tried to avoid it all the same. She dragged the duvet off her bed and settled down on the chair using the footstool to spread her legs.

The faint snoring from across the hall and open door of boy's room provided her with enough semblance of company and reassurance to let her eyes grow heavy. Sleep came with unexpected swiftness.

Soon, the only sounds in the room were the quiet snores and, from the bathroom, the gentle dripping of a tap.

* * *

Jack couldn't pinpoint when, or how the dream had begun. He couldn't even remember falling asleep. He normally slept so soundly with very few dreams that he'd remember the next day. He never had dreams this vivid before. But he rarely dreamt. And never like this.

The first image to rise in his unconscious mind was Kim. Beneath him. And a sensation of aching desire so overpowering that he groaned out loud in his sleep.

Her pale wrists, white and fragile, as he held them down against the sheets, the thrust and want of his own body - _I could break you_ , he thought, and his head filled with strange confusion of the dream.

 _So much. So, so much want._

He moaned into her neck, and dream-Kim arched to meet him. The finger marks on her shoulder seemed to glow.

 _Why?_ The rational part of his brain surfaced, gasping for air.

Why now? Yes, there had unwavering affection for her before, but they had always been friends first. But now, in this house, under a veil of heavy sleep, these lustful thoughts overwhelmed him. More so than dreams about his past girlfriends. And never with this dark and possessive urge...

 _Dream-Kim's skin burned him and her hair tangled around his fingers like silk. His lips couldn't get enough of her and he felt the urge to savor more. He could feel the addictive taste on his tongue, but he needed it in his throat, in his veins, in his bloodstream._

Jack moved fitfully in his sleep, struggling to escape the dream.

 _She's your friend_ , his rationality screamed at him through foggy layers of sleep and arousal. _Yes! The hysteria of the house is getting to you too!_

Jack's eyes snapped open and he sat straight up in bed, breathing hard. He ran his hands through his hair roughly, remnants of the dream clinging to him like wraiths. His face felt warm. There was a dizzy fluttering sensation low in his stomach, slowly ebbing away as he came to himself. Jack noticed as an afterthought that between his legs he was rock hard.

God. How disgustingly teenage of him. How predictable.

His cheeks flushed as he registered an urge to touch, to bring himself to shuddering release. It felt like the worst craving, but deeper. Like unending hunger... More chaotic even than that, an irrational desperate want. And more than that - much more - _he wanted her_.

This was irrational, wasn't it? Kim was a friend, practically one of the guys, a partner in crime, and a confidant to his dating life!

Was the house aura affecting him too? Was Milton correct to think it was some chemical reaction? It had to be! He never thought of Kim in such explicit terms before. She never affected him like _that_ before.

But if it - the house, the chemical, the aura - had affected him it would have gotten to the others as well. He had to wake Rudy and the Gang. Actually, he amended, perhaps not Rudy and Kim. He flushed in embarrassment that he'd have to admit something like this either to his sensei or to _her._ Rising from the bed had brought his attention back to the hardness in his pants. Until he worked out what was causing this uncharacteristically _excited_ reaction he needed to avoid her as much as possible. Right now, he had to sit quietly and wait for the inopportune arousal to go away.

Jack closed his eyes and breathed deeply as his brain fought to control his body.

After seven minutes of meditation, Jack could at least trust himself to be able to walk.

* * *

Milton lay still. Perhaps if he lay quite still enough, he thought, he could stop it from happening. He could always tell, in the past, when he was going to have one of THOSE dreams. Like a migraine aura he would sense a vignette of true fear at the edge of things, and then a sudden inrush of sound and light, like a train emerging from a tunnel.

The stillness didn't help. He knew it wouldn't. And suddenly he was there.

Another dream about being in the middle school, Black Dragons circling him and hurting him. It had been a while since he had those. Nowadays he wasn't alone and he could decently defend himself, but in dreams he reverted back to the nerdy friendless loser. Usually his tormentors were faceless, save for Frank, who would call him names and break his horn. Sometimes they simply jeered at him, sometimes they threw him in the dumpster.

And as usual, in his dreams he had difficulty moving his arms and legs, struggled to speak and was terrified.

 _Just a dream. That's all._

But the fear... And oh, he could feel it now.

The dream changed though. The thumping of his heartbeat was too loud, almost visibly distorting the air above him like a target, pulsing and throwing out ribbons of light. _If they see my heart_ , he thought, _I'm dead_. In this dream, sound was visible too. That was how it felt being alone with his enemies. So very exposed. Too aware of the frailty of bones and flesh. The panic was rising now. Milton tossed, murmuring in his sleep. _Please let me wake up before-_

Suddenly Kim was there and she was wearing cheerleaders uniform. He tried to speak, but she stood next to him and told off Frank. He could see the moment Frank decided to fight Kim. Frank towered over the blonde, his face angry. He was so angry. So-so angry. It was like Milton could see the anger radiate from Frank in little red tendrils. Kim was small, so small now. Milton saw Frank's arms rise and he grabbed her by the shoulders, shaking her to and fro, shouting in her face. He shook and shook, his fingers digging deeper and deeper until Milton saw the purple marks on her skin.

 _No, wake up! It's Kim! Your friend! Help her!_

But he was frozen in his terror.

Two hands grasped his shoulders and shook him violently. Milton awoke with a start to see Jack's pale face staring down at him.

He had never been quite so happy to see Jack's face, "Jack! Thanks for waking me!"

"You had it too?" Jack hissed.

"Wh... What?" Milton muttered, still half feeling the nightmares hold on himself.

"You were thrashing about, moaning, you dreamt it too, didn't you? There's something in the water, that must be it, some kind of drug that makes us horny..." Jack had left Milton's bedside to pace around the room.

Milton watched him, bewildered, "Horny drug? Jack, what are you talking about?"

"The dream! The dream you were having, what was it about? No need for details, obviously..."

"I- I dreamt of... I was alone with my bullies and they hurt- uh- they hurt my friend," Milton answered quietly, unable to tell the whole truth about Kim's presence in the dream, somehow ashamed that his dream self was useless. "It's been ages since I had one of those. Anxiety dreams, you know. I suppose being in a strange place, coupled with what happened to K-Kim, maybe that set it off."

"Oh," Jack stopped pacing.

Milton yawned and rubbed his eyes.

"Jack... Not that I'm not glad you woke me up, but what made you wake me up? Was I really making that much noise?"

"Ah. Yes," Jack seemed to gather his bearings for a minute. He added, gesturing vaguely. "Well, goodnight!"

Jack turned to leave, just as an almighty crash resounded from Kim's bedroom.

Milton leaped out of bed to follow Jack across the hall. The sight that greeted them as they left the bedroom made the hairs stand up on the back of Jack's neck.

Kim was standing in the centre of the room, her hair obscuring her face. She held her arms at an odd angle, bent at the elbow and slightly contorted. Her night dress - really, an oversized tshirt - was torn at the shoulder, and the bruises there looked darker still. She was soaked to the skin. But it wasn't Kim that made Milton freeze where he stood and Jack murmur, "How in the hell..."

Every piece of furniture in the room had been flung to the perimeters as though there had been an explosion in the centre. The heavy chesterfield armchair and the footstool lay at angles against the wall. The mahogany side table was split down the centre over by the window. In the middle of the chaos, Kim wrapped her arms around herself and mumbled anxiously _no-no-no-no_... The sound was ragged, afraid. She dropped to her knees and spoke.

"He took her to the stables to do it. It was there... there... He did it... He took her there to do it."

She repeated it like a mantra, over and over, until her voice rose again and again and she was speaking in high pitch.

Jack rushed to her side.

"Kim. Kim, can you hear me?"

He took hold of her shoulders and her head fell back. Her eyes were blank, only her lips moved. The scream had dropped to a quiet murmur.

"He took... here... here. Oh. He took her to the stables to do it."

Jack looked up at Milton.

"She's not conscious. I mean, I think she's sleep walking. Sort of. Night terrors."

Milton knelt beside her and took Kim's face in his hands.

"Wake! Up!" he commanded.

Kim's lips stopped moving and her eyes fluttered closed. They opened again a moment later, dull with sleep.

"What are you two... Am I... How did I get out here?"

"Kim," Milton said urgently. "What's the last thing you can remember?"

Kim blinked, "Oh, that's right, I fell asleep on the chair." She pointed to where the chair had been. Jack watched panic register on her face as she finally took in the state of the room, and the fact that she was soaking wet.

"What happened to me?" she asked tremulously.

"Funny, that," Milton helped her to her feet. "Was just about to ask you the same thing."


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Happy Thanksgiving! Our heroes are still very much confused and Jack maybe getting some insight, but will he believe it?

* * *

Kim lay on Jack's bed and shivered. Jack had wrapped her in his duvet and tenderly, if clumsily, tried to dry her hair. Jerry had gone to wake the McKrupnicks, leaving Milton investigating the ruins of the sitting room. Milton eyed Jack, silently asking if he were for the task of comforting Kim, and Jack would have bristled at that, but the memory of the dream lingered and he understood his friend's reluctance.

Kim pulled the duvet around her and curled up smaller.

"What's happening to me?" she whispered sounding so afraid and unsure, so unlike her usual self that Jack only could hug her gently in reassurance. She had changed again and her pajamas were quite modest as to cover most of her skin. Jack was grateful for small mercies: he wasn't sure that his dream wouldn't resurface if he were to touch her bare skin again.

"I wish I knew," he mumbled into her hair. As much as he was shocked and unsettled by the dream and Kim's appearance in her room, she was upset and scared and, as usual, he wanted to protect her. This impulse was familiar and he welcomed it.

Milton appeared in the doorway, "Not sure how this keeps happening, but it's the same as with our room. It smells like the lake water. I know the Laird told us that they use underground water, so my working theory is that whatever reservoir or pump they are using has severe mold and algae issue."

He said it all very casually and Jack almost believed him: the leaky pipes made a lot of sense. Still, he couldn't completely discount Kim's and his own incidents.

"What?" Milton asked when the other two didn't answer.

Kim raised her head.

"Nothing. I... I don't know what's happening to me. If it was like you said..."

"You had a nightmare," Milton said matter-of-factly and Jack rolled eyes at him.

"But how did all the chairs get... Everywhere? Why am I wet?"

Milton hesitated a moment before entering the room and sitting in the armchair opposite the bed. He had that patient look of someone dealing with an nervous or very upset person and Jack suspected that Milton thought that Kim had overreacted.

"Tell me what you dreamed about," he said, steepling his fingers under his chin. Kim shut her eyes.

"I can't remember."

"Yes you can. You spoke, in your sleep. Do you remember that?"

Kim shook her head without opening her eyes. Milton sighed exasperatedly.

"Please think, Kim. It's important," he asked.

Kim concentrated and remembered.

She had been in a room in the house that she had never seen before, but it was familiar somehow. How did she even know it was in this house? She just... Did. She knew that room like a childhood home, and she had no idea why. It was... A low, windowless room, it had a bed and a table with a chair... There was a girl there, standing by the table, leaning on it with one hand. A nightdress. She was wearing a nightdress. She had stared at Kim with empty eyes as her belly began to swell. Like that film of the fox rotting in stop motion, its body seething with maggots, seeming to breathe... Kim watched the girl. Pregnant. Three months, four, five, six. The girl stayed silent, staring, and on the seventh month blood began to pour from her eyes. Eight. The girl had stepped forward, jerkily, her hands, palm up, raised to Kim. She had remembered thinking 'it's a dream, don't be frightened, just a dream, that's all' when the girl pitched forward silently and fell... Into her? Then the walls exploded with water, and suddenly Kim was standing in the converted stables but it was still just stables and she was-

"NO!"

Kim screamed and thrashed against the hands that were holding her shoulders and shaking her, hard.

"Kim! Kim, for god's sake!"

Her eyes snapped open to see Jack's face above her, showing the unusual mixture of concern and apprehension. It was as if he was afraid of her or what she capable of.

* * *

Jerry came back with the Laird, who looked around the overturned furniture and waterlogged clothes and said something in Gaelic.

"We must determine where the leaks are coming from. This is quite insupportable."

Jack startled and saw Kim open her mouth to speak, so he hurried to retort.

"And the displaced furniture? That can't be a leaky pipe, right?"

"The fireplaces are drafty too," their host said, unsure, and Jack rolled his eyes.

"Drafty fireplace? That's your explanation?"

"What's yours, lad? A ghost? A spirit? A curse? Don't tell me you fell for those tall tales too."

"Well... Kim did have this dream-" he pointed at the girl in his arms, who was visibly trying to shrink away from the conversation.

Laird's face softened as he looked at her, "I'm sorry you had a scare, lass. I certainly don't want my guests to be uncomfortable, but... You were asleep, right? Had a nightmare? Was there a water falling on you in your dream?"

Kim only nodded in response and the Laird carried on, "So you haven't _seen_ what _actually_ happened. Only what you woke up to. Maybe you mind conjured the nightmare to explain the water leaking onto you. Could it be that?"

Jack saw that Kim hesitated - was it a nightmare and nothing else coupled with some leaking water? Was it her thrashing that caused the ruckus?

Milton chose this moment to share his theory on contaminated water source that must be both corroding the pipes and causing some unusual reactions in the inhabitants of the manor. Laird Alistair was only too eager to latch onto this explanation and together they resolved to meet in the morning to check the water supply system of the estate.

Kim was too spooked to sleep in her own room and Jack gallantly offered her to sleep in his bed. Himself, he chose the armchair as a place to rest. It took Kim and Milton a while to nod off, but Jack stayed awake, looking over the pale girl, whose face still showed a frown even in her sleep.

He couldn't shake off the notion of something more than just engineering failing of the water line. He also didn't want to fall asleep and have the same dream again while Kim was present. When the east side of the sky lightened to the pale pink, he decided to walk around. Jack descended to the main hall of the main house. Outside he could see that dawn was beginning to break on the horizon and the grass was visibly wet with dew. He walked the stone floors slowly and his pace was light enough that he hardly made noise. Which was why Jack was surprised to hear footsteps approaching the hall from the opposite side almost immediately. He had expected to see the maid, but once he cleared the column he saw Lady McKrupnick, fully dressed and wide awake.

"Come in. Let us have some tea," she said. "So what exactly happened last night?"

* * *

"I'm glad it was you who came to me," Lady McKrupnick said when Jack was installed in an armchair by the fire. She handed him a mug of tea. Jack took it gratefully.

"I wanted to speak with you, because Alistair- well, he is so convinced of his rational reasoning, quite frankly, it's pointless."

Jack sighed, "I have to tell you that it is awfully tempting to agree with him."

"What happened to you all tonight..." there was real concern in Lady McKrupnick's eyes, "While not unheard of here, is rare. I would advise you to leave."

She settled back into her armchair and picked up her tea, "But I can tell that you will not."

Jack's brow furrowed, "How do you know what happened?"

Lady McKrupnick looked at him directly for a long time. The ticking of a clock filled the room. Eventually she spoke.

"I heard a noise from the guest wing. The house has been particularly tempestuous tonight. I imagine it moved the furniture. Is the girl alright? Isla told me she is susceptible."

"Hold on..." Jack took a comforting gulp of tea. "I'm afraid I'm not entirely certain what you're talking about. Isla said... What?"

"Isla can see such things. Just like every woman in her family. Not exactly a witch, she just knows the old ways. She can observe things that are not quite of this plane."

"Right," Jack looked despondently into his mug. Was everything ghosts and curses in Scotland? Did Lady Fiona read too much Gothic literature? "Right. And you said the house was..."

"Tempestuous. Unsettled. It was clear that something would happen tonight," Lady McKrupnick leaned forward suddenly and took Jack's hand.

"The Laird wouldn't talk about it. He doesn't quite believe these things, hadn't felt them like others have. But... The legend has it that when there are suitable mediums to channel it... The curse, it feeds off lust, fear and isolation," she said quietly. "It will discover things in a person that they thought long hidden, or lost, or forgotten with purpose. It seeks weakness and exploits it."

Jack stared at her, open mouthed. Despite himself, a shiver clawed its way up his spine. Lust, the curse fed lust or off of lust. It needed a suitable medium. Was he...? And it sensed fear and isolation... Was Kim...?

Lady McKrupnick sat back and cracked a wry smile.

"You must think me mad. Just like my husband does. He will try and find a logical explanation: some leaky pipe, or a gas blast from a dormant fireplace, a prank by McCrarys. Young Milton would try to do the same. I can see it: his mind requires a scientific explanation, but we are dealing with an extraordinary phenomenon. You are welcome here as long as you wish. You can take my advice, or leave it. Even though you don't believe that there is anything paranormal behind last night's occurrence, I had to warn you. Or at the very least try."

"It's not that I don't..." Jack searched for the words. "I know that what happened can be explained. It must. I don't believe in anything otherworldly at all but... But I've never seen anything quite like this," he finished lamely.

"You will find your beliefs held in question further if you choose to stay here," Lady McKrupnick stood up to stoke the fire. "I will prepare the guest rooms in the family wing for you all at least. It may be marginally safer there. And please..." she turned to face Jack and took his hand again. "Please keep an eye on the girl."

She needn't have said it: Jack would keep protect Kim always.

But the traitorous part of his psyche that conjured the dream of Kim and he together, had reared up at the mention of 'keeping an eye' on her and he wondered if he were up to the task after all.

* * *

Jack came back to the room that now three of them shared and found Kim awake, but still sad and quiet.

"Did you sleep well?" he asked, aware that Milton came from the bathroom and looked up to listen to her answer.

"I had no dreams, if that's what you mean," she said with a wry smile, which looked forced.

"Yes, that was what I meant. Did- did you remember what happened before the- the incident?" he asked with all awkwardness of a teenager.

She nodded slowly, looking pensive and afraid again.

"What do you remember?" he asked her gently but urgently.

Kim took deep breaths, trying to calm the frantic fluttering of her heart. Her fingers were digging into Jack's arms, hard, but he didn't seem to notice. She relaxed her grip and sat back against the pillows.

"I was in a room..." she began. Kim finished recounting her dream and looked up at Milton, who stood a good three feet away from the edge of the bed. Jack was sitting next to her on the bed, but angled away from her slightly, his body language communicating discomfort.

She chose to look in Jack's eyes, though it almost hurt to do it. His eyes were dark green then brown, the color always changed in the light but the gaze itself was constant, warm, with a hint of affection. Steady. But now his eyes had that look... That look... God. He was staring, but keeping his distance. He thought she was crazy, and it disturbed him. Made him uneasy. Damn it! She wouldn't drop her eyes. Kim lifted her chin in defiance, but she couldn't stop her lower lip from trembling, so she bit down on it hard in reprimand. She saw Jack's eyes dart to her mouth, then back, and something shifted in his face. This she couldn't stand, so she shifted to Milton and saw him give them a very careful, scrutinizing look.

"I am not insane," Kim said firmly, but quietly she wondered if her dream about the girl and her growing stomach was just a tad insane. It certainly was weird...

A painful silence passed between the three of them, broken gratefully by the sound of the knock on the door.

"Milton! Jack!" Jerry practically shouted, making Jack leap off the bed. He collided with Milton in his haste to get up. Or to get away.

"Jerry, Jesus! Did something happen?" Jack regained his footing and Milton grabbed him by the lapels to stop him from falling.

"Rudy thinks he got us a flight! Only it'll be the day after tomorrow, so we have to stay couple more nights here!" Jerry answered brightly. "So, anything new? From the Laird or the Lady?"

"Yes, ahm... Sort of..." Jack looked over at Kim, "You alright?"

Kim shrugged, "yes."

"You'll be happy to hear this, but Lady McKrupnick got some new rooms set up for us, up at the family wing of the house. That is unless..." Jack went to sit on the bed, "Unless you want to leave. We can drive you to the village and stay at the bed-n-breakfast there. It would be perfectly understandable if you didn't want to stay."

"No," said Kim firmly.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. I want to see this out to the end."

* * *

The new rooms in the family wing were far more modern than the guest wing. Still, they had an opulence to them, full of beautiful things left to collect dust. All three had gigantic four poster beds. Kim set her bag down on hers and opened the sash window to let in some air. The morning chill had disappeared to be replaced by an oppressive dead heat.

She had wanted to go home, more than anything. But there was no way she would let Jack think her a coward. She remembered the look he had given her, of lofty concern but something else too. He had seemed so uncomfortable around her.

Kim opened her bag and pulled out the lightest dress she had brought. A white cotton wisp of a thing, she pulled it on over her head and sighed with relief as the cool fabric caressed her skin. Better. Slightly.

Maybe he feared insanity, she mused as she gathered her hair back into a plait. He puts so much emphasis on the mind, he values his own so highly, maybe the slightest hint of madness unhinges him.

Was she going crazy? A nightmare could be dismissed as just that, a bad dream, that's all...

What about the disorder of the room though? The heavy chesterfield chair tossed like dollhouse furniture, the mahogany table thrown so hard that the thick dense wood had split – how could that be explained away? An incredibly localized earthquake? A sort of anti-neutron bomb that left people unscathed but could only affect... furniture? It seemed as though they were all trying not to acknowledge it. It was too much, too strange to be excused...

Was she insane? Was it a prank? Was it a... curse?

A/N: Do you get the sense that Kim is isolated a little? Alone? Not many believing her? I hope you can see it...


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: thank you for reviewing. To answer couple of reviews: yes, Jack is hit with lust and Kim - with isolation. And yes, they are affected at all times.

* * *

Jackh hadhis morning run around the lake and it was refreshing to be in the daylight and putting his body through the vigor of exercises. His mind was occupied with learning the new terrain and taking in sights, so by the time he was done he was mostly back to his usual self. The doubt and lust of the last night faded to nothing and the conversation with Lady Fiona felt like it was part and parcel of the tour guide's speech.

He showered and when he was done, Milton was back in the room busy reading.

"So?"

Milton rolled his eyes and looked up from his tablet. He sat on the bed in their new room, which was big and more modern than the last. Instead of plaster, mouldings and fireplace, it had patterned wallpaper and radiators.

"So... What?"

The black belt brunet came in and sat on the bed, "So, what's your theory on last night?"

Milton sighed and turned away from the tablet, "There are a few loose ends to tie up but other than that it's quite obvious don't you think?"

"Ahm... No, not really. I woke up in the middle of the night from a _really_ strange dream, woke you up from _your_ _really_ strange dream, then we heard all the furniture in Kim's place being thrown around the room and she herself was acting as though she was possessed or something..." As he recounted it, Jack wondered if remembered it right. Was furniture really thrown or could it have been shoved around. Was Kim really acting possessed or ... merely scared and spooked by a nightmare?

"No, I don't believe the furniture was moved at the moment we heard the crash," Milton interrupted him.

"What?"

"I imagine we were unwittingly under the influence, some variety of oneirogenic airborne general anaesthetic to keep us in a dead sleep while someone, or more likely some ones moved the furniture around and-"

"One-ir-gen-What?" Jack interjected only to be greeted with impatient huff from Milton.

"A substance that produces deep sleep-like state of consciousness," he paused pointedly for Jack to acknowledge and then went on. "My research indicated a Quinuclidinyl benzilate as a likely suspect, or a variant of it. It takes time to work, to build up, so continuous exposure is necessary to work. Then of course, there was the disturbing and unusually vivid dreams. Either a side effect of the nerve agent in the air or more likely, this."

Milton held up his tablet with a text on it and Jack took it.

"Milton, when did you have time to go digging?"

"Just read it."

Jack sighed, "Calea Zacatechichi," he read. The rest was in Spanish. "What am I looking at?"

Milton gave him another impatient and exasperated look. "It's a herb found in South American medicine," he explained. "Also known as Leaf of God, or the dream herb. Used in witchcraft for divination. And in certain other circles, recreationally. It causes the user to experience intensely graphic dreams."

"Divination?" was the only thing Jack could croak, because words _graphic dreams_ took his mind back to the night when he dreamed of Kim under him. The mere memory brought back such a instant bolt of lust straight through him that he had to hold his breath for a second.

"Jack, focus!"

"Right... Intense dreams... So, if Kim just had a very intense dream, while deeply asleep, and someone moved the furniture, then it makes sense," Jack said slowly trying to tie Milton's words to the situation at hand. The drug theory actually made sense, right? What else could explain this- this intensity? This lust? This possessive hunger? "So, this drug is in the air or something?"

"I haven't seen anything on it being vaporized, but it doesn't mean it's impossible. There is also a likelihood of it being in the liquids."

"Like water and tea? The tea? Are you sure?"

"Can't be positive until we can test for it, which is impossible right now. Because we'd then have to inform the authorities. I'd rather not do it just yet. Not to my relatives."

"But that means that someone has access to us, to what we drink, to the water here in the manor... And your relative was so adamant that it was a prank... How come they don't have these dreams?"

"We might be targeted as the new residents, spook us... Maybe to make a headache for the McKrupnicks."

"But why?" Jack was in disbelief. It seemed like so much effort. Unbidden the conversation with Lady Fiona came to mind. Was she in on it? She seemed like she truly believed the story, but she also mentioned that Isla was in on it. Was Lady Fiona duped too?

"I'm not sure. The family feud was settled, but we don't know how recently. We also don't know how bloody it was before. As it happens, you are looking at the photo from a book I found in the manor library. A book on witchcraft and herbalism, that had been handled in the past three days."

Witchcraft? _Witchcraft_?! Jack reeled from this news. Isla was a witch, or at least witch-adjacent. What was going on here?

"How do you know that?"

Milton closed his eyes in exasperation, "It was dusty on the shelf, except for the spot where the book was obviously taken out and shoved back in. They have servants here that tend to such things as regular dusting, ergo-"

Jack nearly groaned in returned frustration, "Sorry I asked."

Milton ignored him and continued, "After we were incapacitated then something, most likely the night table with the heavy lamp that was balanced precariously fell and made a crash. Somebody wants us to believe there is a supernatural presence in this house, Jack. And it seems like it was a group effort..."

Jack, who had his own suspicions, tried to parse it all out. Lady Fiona seemed liked she didn't want them to suffer, but was it a bluff? To make her look sympathetic? He really wasn't sure what would be her purpose here. And didn't she say that Isla was somehow a seer or something? Were these two women playing them? Or was it only Isla?

"I guess we need to ask our hosts if their neighbors are particularly vindictive," he finally said after trying to process everything Milton told him and what he heard from their hostess.

"Jack..." Milton started cautiously.

"Hmm?"

"Kim told us she dreamed about that girl, I dreamed about a friend being hurt... What did you dream about?"

"Can't remember," Jack said quickly. "I just know it was... disorientating."

"You said something about being ... horny?" here Milton gave an exaggerated shudder.

Jack could feel the color rise in his cheeks and playfully shoved Milton, "Dude, I'm a teen boy. And this is as much as I'm willing to say on this matter. I don't think our friendship would survive any in-depth discussions."

The joke landed well, because Milton blushed too and nodded hastily.

* * *

Kim wandered along the banks of the lake in a daze. She hadn't slept even close to enough, and the warmth of the hazy sun was soaking into her bones. She felt shaken but calm, the events of the previous night seemed more benign in the daylight. It was funny, the way darkness amplified everything. Maybe she didn't see what happened and maybe the dark made her think she saw something...

Maybe...

But then she'd remember the dream and how vivid it was and...

Kim shuddered again.

It was strange to see how differently boys reacted to everything. Jerry was comforting, even performing a clumsy blessing of her by moving his hand in Catholic cross and murmuring a prayer. Milton was... skeptical, which was what she expected from him, but was disappointing that he clearly thought her insane and disregarded her awful experience as hysterics. And Jack... He vacillated between concern and disbelief with an added sense of apprehension. Of what he was wary she couldn't quite tell. Was he worried about her because of her perceived susceptibility? Was he wary of himself? It was as if he was worried about his reactions, but why? Nothing has changed. Right? She was the same Kim and he should trust her, but if he didn't then he was failing as a friend. She hated when guys acted like they knew all the answers and she was just their source of information on all things female and nothing else. She was their friend first... Ugh, it was so frustrating and she was tired...

But just as she resolved to stop thinking of guys and their reactions, a little voice in the back of her head reminded her that Jack did have the most magnificent cheekbones.

Lost in thought, Kim tripped over a tussock of grass and landed on her knees, her copy of Wuthering Heights flying out of her hands. She dissolved into helpless giggles.

God, maybe she really was hysterical.

"Are you alright, miss?"

Kim looked up at the tall and fair man she's never seen before.

"I'd heard you coming and then when I saw young American miss trippin' about up by the lake I thought, that's a girl not from round here I thought, now that's a girl who don't know two ways around a tussock."

The young man, who called himself Angus McCrary, was huge in an almost geographical sense. He towered over her and she suspected he'd tower over the guys too. And was about two times as wide. And not just large, but built with muscle defining his shoulders and upper back. Kim hadn't met a lot of Scotsmen, but she suspected he had looked the part. He was pale and freckled, with a mop of dark red hair and bluest eyes she's even seen. He seemed friendly and a little shy, despite his own physical size.

"Am I that obvious as an American?" she asked with a smile.

"Nay, just... I know all young lasses here. And I would certainly know one so pretty. Since I didn't recognize you, I figured you were one of the American guests of the McKrupnicks."

"And everyone knows of our visit, I gather."

"That we do. Laird Alistair was quite proud. He says his clansman is a fine young man, who would make him proud."

"Do you often come to the lake?" she asked for want of conversation topics.

"Aye lass. The McCrarys land abuts the lake and the Turlann's meadows here," he waved his arms in the direction of the east end of the lake.

"It's beautiful here. Gorgeous even," she said and saw a bright smile in response.

"It is. Most beautiful. I reckon no place is as beautiful. But then I was born here. This is my land," he said both proudly and reverently.

They fell into a silence and walked slowly around the lake. Kim was glad for it. Angus' presence took her mind of the happenings in the manor and she could simply enjoy the scenery.

"Are you ready for the gathering?" he asked finally, assessing her up and down.

"Yes, I think. Laird McKrupnick told us it will be like the state fair back home. You know? Food, games, fun..."

He laughed heartily, "Let me ask you this, lass. Are you ready for the games?"

"...Yes?" she said unsure. "I mean, is it like sack races and pulling ropes?"

He laughed again, his face tinging in pink from merriment, "Aye, those are games. I'm talking about _games."_

"Okay..." she drawled then. "What sort of games are we talking about?"

That was a right question to ask. Previously shy man transformed and talked enthusiastically about log competition involving axes (!), church door flip (what was it even?), a boulder lifting (how?), something called _shinty_ that sounded like rough field hockey, wellington (rain boot) tossing, and so on. She listened and laughed at Angus' description of previous competitions and winners. But underneath the obvious humor was the undeniable love for the events.

"So, I bet the competition is serious? I mean, people train and get mad if they lose?" she asked lightly thinking of the sports competition back at home.

"Aye, 'tis serious. People who are good at the games, want to be recognized as such. But..." he smiled slyly, "half the game is in the head of the player."

They reached the far end of the lake and he looked back to the Turlann manor, "You better get back, miss. Meal will be served soon. I'll see you at the gathering."

She walked back thinking that she really needed the respite from the events in the Turlann manor so far. The gathering sounded like a lot of fun and she hoped that the vigor of the games, which sounded very competitive, would lift her worries and give her a new fodder for dreams.

* * *

She barely had time to grab a cardigan to cover up her bare shoulders and made it to the dining room, which really should have been called a hall it was so huge, just in time.

The Laird and Lady Fiona noticed her pinked cheeks and she was obliged to tell them about her walk around the lake. Somehow that started the whole new slew of stories about large creature, which locals said was a monster, but the Laird thought was merely a large river shark. Laird Alistair was consummate champion of his land, however, and indulged his guests with stories surrounding the large creature and the dangers of swimming in the lake after the sunset.

She tried to divert the conversation and mentioned the gathering asking about competitiveness of games. Laird Alistair, still entertaining Rudy and Jerry, quickly threw a byline about McKrupnicks taking an overall upper hand over the McCrarys, but Lady Fiona talked quietly to Kim afterwards how the feud was now a competition during the games. She lamented that no one was a match to Angus in sheer strength and that her son was away in Uni and couldn't come to put in an appearance. Kim confessed to meeting Angus and agreed that the young man in question was a clear favorite. Lady Fiona felt compelled to defend the honor of her son, who apparently have won against Angus before. Somehow, quite without her realizing, Kim agreed to take part in some of the games to help represent the Turlann residents.

After a late dinner, with darkness just beginning to fall, the Gang turned in for the night. Kim was clearly exhausted, her eyes beginning to droop halfway through dessert. Milton, predictably, barely ate because he was distracted with reading a book. Rudy and Jerry got stuck in a conversation about the lake creature that was occasionally spotted and the two were quite taken with a tale.

* * *

Jack had spent most of the meal trying to catch Isla's eye as she served them (with little success). He heard Milton's theory and it was what he really wanted to believe, but Lady Fiona sounded so sure... Maybe there was something out there and maybe Kim was sensitive to it... Who knew, but even if Milton was right, maybe it was Isla who drugged them.

He did note that Kim looked better now and her conversation with the Lady Fiona provided an explanation. She walked around the lake and met the local giant and champion. Kim told a humorous story of falling down and then taking the local's offer of company. She now knew more about the gathering and the games than even Milton. He tried not to, but ended up listening very attentively to her conversation and learned that this Angus person was a physical embodiment of the strong highlander, in addition to being quite competitive and, apparently, quite charming. Kim positively gushed and it was cringe worthy. It was true what they said: an accent could take you quite far. He just thought that Kim was better than that...

Still, as they traipsed up the staircase, Jack could see her hesitation and caught her attention, "If anything happens tonight... I mean anything, even if it is just a very bad dream... Wake me."

Kim smiled, "Don't worry about that." She lowered her voice as Milton disappeared into their room and shut the door. "Maybe the new bedroom and the walk will make a difference."

He frowned at the mention of the walk again. Yes, _that_ walk with _that_ Angus person. Wasn't it most fortuitous that he happened to be there when she walked and fell? All chivalrous and stuff. And good at those games at the gathering? He told Kim all about that and his own wins.

Jack's thoughts halted from their slightly jealous _(protective,_ he assured himself) tone into more suspicious. Wasn't it even more fortuitous that all this started happening to residents of Turlann right before the gathering? Could it truly be that simple? The feud and the competition? And why not? His own cousin conspired to break Jack's wrist just to win.

The previous jealous _(protective)_ urge turned outward and Jack was mightily irritated with the whole of the Scottish adventure and the gathering, the old houses, even older feuds and some conveniently chivalrous neighbors. If the McCrarys were behind it, they would have to be caught red-handed. Otherwise, the whole feud would be resurrected in the open.

These thoughts kept him awake for a while.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Thank you for reading. It's always so rewarding to see the view count rise. Onward with the story.

* * *

Four hours passed before Jack and Milton's door opened again. Jack had fallen into sleep quickly, only to be tormented by another lurid dream about Kim. This time it wasn't the same as the first, when the feeling of lust and possessive urge was so strong as to overwhelm him. This time his dream was almost a garden variety horny dream of a teenager. In fact, it was almost tame. Kim was in it, dressed in the maid's uniform. Only the hem of her skirt was quite a bit shorter and the top quite a bit tighter. He woke up turned on, but not disoriented. However, he didn't fall asleep again. Time to take a look around the house, he decided. In the dead of night, the place would be his to explore thoroughly without distraction. He closed the door quietly behind him.

Jack paused outside Kim's room. Her door was ajar and he peeked into the opening to look on. He could make out the shape of Kim's small form under the sheets. He rested one hand on the doorjamb and seemed to struggle with his thoughts for a moment, before moving on.

The great house was quiet, but not entirely silent. Distant creaks and the clanking of pipes filled the dark halls that seemed to go on forever. Lit by dim lights set into the walls, they were hung with portraits and tapestries. Hundreds of pairs of ancient eyes watched Jack as he walked slowly towards the main staircase. The entire house seemed to reverberate with a low, almost imperceptible grey noise.

As he descended the staircase Jack stopped. A shiver passed through him. He leaned against the bannister and took a deep breath, rolling up his left sleeve. The skin on his arms was raised in gooseflesh. He was experiencing a pilomotor reflex in response to some impalpable stimulous. Interesting.

Jack frowned. He wasn't cold. So what was it? It was almost as though his body was reacting to a fear that his rational had yet to hear about. Was it the drug like Milton suggested? But then, it would mean it was everywhere and others would feel it too. It was so strange... Was there a paranormal explanation to this all?

He reached the end of the staircase and crossed the entrance hall. Jack always had a great visual memory and he felt like he knew the layout of the place well enough. As he reached the half hidden stairs to the basement Jack noticed the low buzzing noise rise a level or two in frequency. Before he set foot on the first step, he heard a new noise on one of the upper levels. He cocked his head to one side and listened. The noise came again. Not from the East wing where the bedrooms were, but from the west, and higher up. Footsteps.

Jack turned and started back across the entrance hall.

* * *

The dripping tap.

You could always hear it somewhere in the manor. It was never clear exactly where it was coming from, but it was constant. When Fiona McKrupnick had first moved into the manor she had spent nights driven mad by it, roaming the place and tightening all the spigots with a wrench. In time, however, it became almost a comfort to her. As with the other unusual workings of the Turlann mansion, it was at first unnerving, but soon became, well, part of the character of the place.

As long as one left well alone.

And it - the house and its secrets - left her and her husband alone. Truly, it never even bothered Alistair. He was so logical and firmly practical that his mind didn't allow for any possibility of the otherworldly. She, on the other hand, was sensitive to it. When she was young bride it bothered her a lot and she had dreams, such terrible dreams. In the first flush of love, Alistair agreed with her and they lived in Edinburgh for a while, away from this house. They had their one and only child and when he was five, Alistair put his foot down and they returned to the Turlann manor. She felt it again, the energy and whispering and footsteps. She even had couple of bad dreams again, but this time she went straight to the local wise woman. Locals called her a witch, a _buidseach._ A witch, although she wasn't anything more than a person, who knew the history and had couple of tricks to ward off spirits. Like the old days, when druids lived here and practiced their ways. This was how Fiona found out about the local legend of the curse and the restless spirit that haunted the place. She also learned that Alistair's own mother came to seek the same help from the same _buidseach._

And she knew now that the _sgaile_ was looking for a way back into this world. And certain young women, who were sensitive, would likely be targeted. So she didn't tell anything to Alistair and did exactly as the woman told her.

The chants and runes helped.

Tonight the footsteps were back again. Fiona sat at her dressing table and murmured the banishing chants that she was taught. It helped that Isla was here, in the manor. She was the granddaughter of the _buidseach._ It had been a long time since the footsteps had kept her up at night, but things had been particularly unsettled since the arrival of their young relative and his companions.

Poor girl, Fiona thought of the young Kimberly. She was so fair and pretty. She could tell that the girl was naturally vivacious and brave, but the house had some hold on her already. Fiona hadn't sensed the house and its energy until she lived here for a full month. The girl felt it from the moment she stepped foot here. She was definitely sensitive. Maybe she was the one... No, Fiona wouldn't wish it upon anyone. For all that the spirits left her alone, she was not fooled. There was darkness here and no one deserved it.

She stopped her quiet chanting and lifted her chin, listening. A second set of footsteps was coming from downstairs, growing closer. They were almost silent, and steady. Fiona looked up at the stained glass sidelight of the bedroom door as a shadow passed. That profile... It was the young man, a friend of Milton's - Jack. He was heading towards the sound of the footsteps on the fourth floor landing.

Did he feel it too? That would be unprecedented... Men she knew haven't felt it...

Fiona made a movement to leap from her seat and warn him, but she stopped. She was no match to the young man's stride. And, she thought, perhaps it was for the best that he discover what he would. He had to do it on his own.

With only a slight stirring of guilt, Fiona sat back down and began to comb her hair. Jack's footsteps faded into the distance.

 _Godspeed, Jack Brewer_ , she thought.

* * *

Jack crept along the third floor landing until he reached the stairs to the fourth. He paused at the bottom to take stock.

Hands, shaking. Mouth dry. Headache.

He blinked.

Blurred vision. Nausea.

The symptoms had been growing the further he made his way up the floors of the House. At first he had suspected the low buzzing that seemed to permeate the lower levels was some sort of psychoacoustic vibration designed specifically to unnerve, but as he climbed higher the grey noise had faded and yet the symptoms increased.

The airborne drug they were breathing must rise like heat. Jack hovered at the bottom of the stairs for a while longer, toying with the idea of finding a dust mask or something to tie around his mouth and nose to lessen the effect of the drug when he heard the footsteps run across the floor right above his head.

Forget about respiratory health. This was the game.

He silently mounted the first step. The footsteps above him ceased abruptly. Jack cursed inwardly, presuming his presence known. No use for subtlety now. He bounded up the stairs, taking them three at a time, until a tightness in his chest overcame him. He reeled against the banister, grasping it with whitened knuckles. Blood thrummed loudly in his ears and spots of light swam into his vision. For a moment he thought he was going to be sick. His head spun and he lost balance, pitching forward onto all fours.

The floorboards creaked on the fourth landing. The footsteps moved towards the top of the stairs. Jack raised his head. The effort to move was unbelievable.

There was a figure standing at the top of the staircase.

"Who's there?" he croaked. The figure moved abruptly out of view.

"Stop!"

Jack threw his weakening body into action, clawing his way up the stairs on his hands and knees. He reached the top and dragged himself upright against the balustrade. He scanned the landing, eyes shifting in and out of focus.

"There you are."

The figure stood in a patch of shadow ten meters away. Jack's brow furrowed. Smaller than he expected, the figure was... It was a girl. A young girl. She was wearing a long, white nightdress.

"Kim?" Jack muttered, confused. The girl's face was too dark to make out. Jack took a shaky step forward.

 _Help. Me._

The words arrived in his disorientated mind without bypassing his ears, yet it was clear that the source was the girl. How the hell...?

Jack shook his head in an attempt to clear it, but the movement only increased the dizziness that threatened to overwhelm him. He pressed one hand to his eyes and breathed in deeply.

When he opened his eyes, the girl was standing right in front of him. Jack recoiled, his back hitting the balustrade.

"Who are you?" a hint of panic entered his voice. The girl was less than three feet away from him now, yet her face still appeared too dark and blurred to see. Jack's breath caught in his throat. Everything else was in focus but her face.

"I'm hallucinating," Jack said out loud, his speech slurring. "I can't... I can't see your face." His mind was filling up with mist. Static crawled into the edges of his vision and his legs buckled beneath him. He fell against the wall and groaned. There was something very wrong. His last functional synapses sparked, every nerve screaming at him to get out of there, fast.

No longer an option.

Jack made one last effort to rise. He pushed himself up onto his elbows, and suddenly the girl's face was an inch from his own.

Oh God. Her face. The pure twisted horror of it. Her eyes were dark, screaming holes in her skin, her jaw hung low and slack, every inch of her grey and dead like something rotted in water-

Jack lost consciousness.

* * *

Kim woke with a start. Her heart was beating fast, but whatever dream had woken her was already fading from her mind. She lay still, working on controlling her breathing. It was another minute or two before she realized there was a presence standing in the doorway. Kim gasped, scrambling to gather the bedclothes around her before laughing with relief as she recognized the silhouette.

"Jack! You frightened me. What are you doing?"

He didn't answer, but stepped forwards into the room towards the bed. Kim squinted up at him.

"You alright?"

He sat on the bed beside her. The springs shifted under his weight.

"Did you have a dream? Like me and Milton did?"

Kim sat up and tilted her head to one side. Jack's face was still silhouetted against the light from the doorway. Kim could make out one side, the sharp planes of his cheekbone.

"What's going on with you?" she took hold of his hand, fully expecting him to flinch and pull away. He didn't.

"Jesus. You're freezing-" Kim froze herself as Jack lifted his other hand and cupped her face. His thumb slid along her jaw and hooked his fingers around the back of her neck.

The adrenaline and the fright caused by the dream and Jack's sudden appearance morphed into a heightened awareness of him, his nearness, his hands on her... Butterflies, a whole swarm of them, attacked her stomach with vengeance and her insides trembled in anticipation of... of something...

"What are you-" he cut her off again, this time by pressing his mouth to hers. His lips were dry and cold. Kim couldn't move. Her heart began to pound again. She had imagined this moment so many times before. Surprising to herself even, that she hadn't taken into account the fact that kissing Jack would more likely than not be something akin to kissing a statue.

Kim's eyes fluttered closed. He pressed harder into her mouth and she yielded and it was glorious, if cold. Her lips felt numb from pressure and cold and the kiss seemed to leach the warmth and energy from her body. Then he opened his mouth. The touch of the tongue to her lips like a touch of a very chilled metal. His breath was like ice. Kim gasped... and the kiss abruptly ceased.

Her eyes snapped open, and she was alone. Jack was gone.

Kim let herself fall back into her pillow, confused. A dream... She decided reluctantly, touching a finger to her lips. They were cold.

* * *

Milton woke up and wasn't certain why. He searched his brain for a half forgotten noise, or a nightmare fading like breath on a cold window. No reason for it. One moment he was sleeping blissfully for the first time since he arrived at Turlann, and now he was wide awake and alert. He sat up on the edge of his bed and scratched the back of his head, frowning. At home he would have gotten up, padded to the kitchen and made himself a cup of cocoa. Read something perhaps. Milton sighed. Home comforts. There was something about Turlann that made him want to stay safely in his room at night.

He stood and put on his shoes. Perhaps he'd go to check on Kim. He hoped secretly that she had woken too. As he made to leave a shadow in the doorway stopped him short. Milton let out a short bark of fright before recognising the apparition. Jack.

"Please don't do that," Milton muttered. "What are you doing up?"

Without a word, Jack beckoned Milton to follow him and turned to leave.

* * *

The lights were off, or dimmed. Light coming from somewhere but it wasn't clear from where. A strange, buzzing ambience. The warm gloom settled over the house like a cat on a sleeping infant. Milton followed Jack down the stretch of hallway towards the stairs. He wanted to ask Jack where he was taking him, but at the same time he was reluctant to open his mouth. The shadows seemed full, pregnant, swarming with silent beasts. Milton tried to make his footfalls as light as possible. Jack, as usual, moved without a sound.

The silence opened only for the dripping tap. Slow, and deliberate, the noise seemed to hang over them like a travelling storm. As they moved, it should have gotten closer, then further away. It should have become louder as they approached it and quieter as they moved on, and Milton tried to ignore the fact that it didn't. Consistently, steadily, the sound followed them to the end of the stairs and across the entrance hall to the basement stairwell. Without hesitation, Jack descended into the gloom.

"Jack?" Milton balked at the darkness in front of him. Halfway down and Jack had disappeared completely into the velvet dark.

"Isn't there a light or something? Jack?"

Milton peered nervously into the gloom.

"You could break a leg on steps like that, without a light on."

No answer. With a sigh, Milton steeled himself and marched downwards.

At the bottom of the stairs, Milton tried to let his eyes adjust to the dark. There was light coming from somewhere... Past the racks of wine built into the wall there was a corner. Milton groped his way towards it, half blind. The dim light was coming from beyond it.

Rounding the corner, Milton found the source of the light. Jack was standing silently in front of a doorway set in the cellar wall. A strange sort of light emanated from it, enough to seep into the corners of the basement and turn Jack into a thin silhouette.

"Is this what you brought me down here for?" Milton asked. While the rest of the house normally held a chill, the basement was oppressively warm. A furnace lurking somewhere, Milton suspected. That would explain some of the strange noises too.

"Something in this room, is it?"

Milton approached the doorway, wiping the sheen of sweat off his face with the sleeve of his dressing gown.

"What is it?"

Milton looked around the doorframe apprehensively.

"It's a... A little room. Maybe it was a maid's room? What am I supposed to be seeing here?"

Milton glanced back at Jack, who didn't answer. Didn't even shrug.

"You've been weird, you know," he muttered angrily, and stepped into the tiny room. Immediately, everything seemed to shudder, defocus, then right itself. Milton winced as a feeling of dread overwhelmed him.

"There's not enough air down here," he whispered to himself. "I feel..."

He scanned the room. Strange little room. A low bed. Dirt floor, like the rest of the basement. A child's cradle in the corner.

A cradle?

Milton, smothered and confused in the heat, approached the cradle. An old, old thing. Who would keep a child down here? He reached out to touch it, unsure why exactly, perhaps to cement it in his own reality, then stopped. He had a feeling – one that made the hair on his arms stand straight up and a lump form in his throat – that there was something in the cradle. A veil of muslin was draped over it with only darkness beyond. His years of logical thinking evading him, Milton withdrew his hand and backed out of the strange, silent room. Jack stood waiting for him outside.

"There's something not quite right with the air down here," Milton told him. "I feel ill. That room is..."

Milton looked back over his shoulder into the room, and saw the cradle rock violently forward with a nauseating creak.

Panic rose in his throat as he whirled around.

"Jack! Did you see -"

But the basement was empty.

He was alone.

A/N: Still with me?


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: So, our protagonists are 'awake' awake. But there is little clarity as to what is happening. Please, bear in mind that they are being influenced even when they are awake and it makes cooperation and trust between them difficult.

* * *

Kim floated along the corridor like a ghost. She wasn't sure where she was going exactly, or why. Something was pulling her inexorably towards the west wing of the house.

At first, she had lain still and confused for a few minutes after her strange dream about Jack, before getting up to go to the bathroom. The memory of the kiss and the coldness followed her and she shivered. Splashing water into the face helped and she was now wondering about her own imagination. The house scared her in its watching gloom. She peered nervously with one eye on the door and avoided glancing in the mirror while washing her hands. When she left the bathroom her only thought was to scamper back to her bed as fast as she could... but instead she wandered across the mezzanine and towards the West wing.

Why? She wasn't sure...

She felt dreamy, unreal. She wasn't frightened anymore.

Kim reached the bottom of the staircase that led to the fourth floor.

 _This is where I'm going_ , she thought. The house felt like home. She knew it like it was her own.

She moved fluidly up the stairs then stopped. Coming back into herself, she gasped. In the semi-darkness she could just make out a dark figure lying slumped against the wall. She took another step and realized who it was.

"Jack!"

Kim gathered her robe in one hand and rushed up the remaining steps, half tripping, and fell to her knees beside the unconscious boy. Wary of the remnants of the dream, she only touched his wrist, feeling for a pulse. It was there, slow, but present. Kim sighed in relief and sat back on her heels.

Jack's face was pale, seeming almost to glow in its whiteness. His lips were blue. Kim reached out and pressed a gentle hand against Jack's forehead. His eyes moved beneath the lids and he took a deep, shuddering breath.

"Jack, thank goodness!" Kim cupped his face in both hands. "What happened? Can you tell me?"

Jack's eyes snapped open with a focused ferocity that made Kim flinch and pull her hands away. He stared at her, his breath quickening.

"What are you?" he muttered. "What is this? You're not real. This isn't real. What have you done to me?"

He was hyperventilating now, trying to get up. Kim grasped his shoulders.

"It's me, Jack, it's Kim... Crawford. We go to school together? We got to the same dojo? Please try to calm down, breathe a little slower..."

A flash of recognition changed Jack's expression. He swallowed hard.

"Kim. You must leave. I saw something up here, something... That I can't explain. Her face was missing, but then I saw it and it was... There was something very wrong with her face-"

He cupped her face and looked into her eyes, darting between them, still scared and she tried to reassure him with just her smile.

"Her eyes-" a quick inhale "eyes- Gods... Your eyes- so-" he stopped mumbling and she could see when the fear that has taken over him finally lifted.

His hands dropped from her as if burned and he pulled back and his face took on that closed off look, "You! What is- I'm fine!"

Jack pulled himself up, standing up shakily, leaning on the balustrade, his eyes scanning the hallway. He towered over Kim as she tried fruitlessly to support him. He swayed, still breathing too fast.

"Jack, try to just sit down for me will you? You're going to-"

Before Kim even completed her prediction, Jack fulfilled it. His eyes rolled back and he fell, his head hitting the carpet hard as Kim's ineffective attempt to catch him failed miserably.

"Shit."

Kim looked down at him. At least he was breathing normally now. He was going to have one hell of a headache when he came round.

Kim turned at the sound of fast approaching footsteps.

"Jack! Kim! Where are you?"

It was Milton, sounding panicked.

"Up here!" Kim met him at the bottom of the stairs. He was out of breath and white as a sheet.

"Kim, have you seen Jack? Is he in the house?"

"Yes, um, here... He's been taken ill I think. I was just about to come find you."

She led her conscious, if frightened and shaking, friend upstairs.

"Oh god..." Milton looked terrified at the sight of Jack's prone form. He knelt to take his pulse.

"Don't worry, I've already done that," Kim said. "He woke up when I got here, actually. He said he saw someone. A girl without a... face. Then he got up too quickly and fainted again."

Milton looked over his shoulder at her. There was something pleading in his expression.

"Kim," he said carefully, "How long has he been up here?"

"I don't know how long. I found him ten minutes ago."

"That's it," Milton stood up and ruffled his hair vigorously. "I'm going mad..."

"How do you mean?"

"It's getting to me. I knew it would."

Jack groaned, and Milton and Kim darted to help him.

"My head. Hurts, bad," he said as they helped him sit up. "What happened to my head?"

"You fainted. I tried to catch you," said Kim apologetically, patting his hand gently "But the floor caught you instead."

"How long were you unconscious for, Jack?" Milton asked, trying to disguise the note of panic in his voice.

Jack looked at them again, taking in their attire and position. Once again Kim could see when he found his footing as he sat up straighter and shook off her hand. She tried to smother the feeling of disappointment at that.

"What? I don't know. Doesn't matter now. I'm fine," Jack declared, cocky and sure despite the situation, and Kim sighed internally. Something spooked him - a dream maybe - but he would never admit to a weakness. She could see clearly in his expression.

Milton and Kim exchanged a glance as Jack struggled to his feet. Milton grabbed his arm as Jack swayed again.

"Come on. Let's get you to bed."

* * *

Kim had done some babysitting for her sister, but that had been a walk in the park compared to putting Jack to bed. Eventually, after a threat from Milton to call his parents, he sulkily complied. Once they were certain that he wouldn't get up again Kim and Milton crept down to the empty kitchen and made tea with shaking hands. Before long the conversation meandered away from their escapist chats about school, films and friends towards something weighing heavily on both their minds.

"I dreamed again," Kim said quietly, staring into her cup.

"The same dream?"

"No. It was... Strange. It was Jack. He came into my room."

Milton's hands spasmed sending a splash of tea onto the tabletop.

Kim stared at him, "What was that?"

Milton had turned pale again, "Never mind. You first."

"Oh. Nothing more than that really," Kim kept her eyes downcast. "He came into my room and didn't say anything. Then... Then he left."

"God," Milton took a fortifying swallow of tea. "I think I dreamed something similar. But it wasn't, I mean it couldn't have been a dream. Jack was in my room, he motioned me to follow him and I did. I followed him, Jack, down to the basement. I watched him, and I followed him. He was absolutely, irrevocably there. But when I looked away just for a second then looked back... He was gone."

"Why did he bring you to the basement?" Kim asked, her voice hushed.

"He wanted to show me-"

"Show you what?" Jack's voice interrupted him.

Kim and Milton started and turned, Milton upsetting his tea all over the table. Jack was leaning against the door frame. He sauntered into the room.

"What did 'I' want to show you?"

"How long were you standing there?" Milton muttered, mopping up the spilled tea with a dishtowel.

"Long enough to hear about my apparent visitations. Goodness, I've been busy tonight." Jack was unusually sarcastic and condescending, considering his fainting spell.

Jack pulled up a chair opposite them. Kim shrank away from the sneering boy.

"Are you...?"she began wanting to know if he was fine.

"Yes it's really me," Jack said mockingly. "Now, have you both gone completely mad or have you truly begun to believe in your nightmares?"

Milton and Kim stayed silent.

Jack sat back, "If you must know, I couldn't sleep and decided to walk around a little. It was when I reached the fourth floor that I became... disoriented. Yet both of you claim to have seen me at roughly the same time. You can see how I might find it a touch unbelievable."

Jack steepled his fingers under his chin and stared evenly at them, "How woudl you explain it, Kim?"

Kim met his gaze for a minute before the embarrassment of her imagined kiss flooded her and she turned her attention back to her teacup.

"I... I must have dreamed it," she said quietly.

"And you Milton?"

Milton returned his look, "I swear I couldn't have possibly dreamed it. You were THERE, right in front of me. I looked at you, I talked to you. It was real."

Still some doubt was creeping into his voice, fueled by Jack's judging face.

Jack was stubborn and almost sneered at them as if admitting to a vivid nightmare was something to be ashamed of.

"Nonsense," Jack muttered contemptuously. "You were sleepwalking. Don't you know how many ghost stories begin with 'I was in bed when' or 'I woke up and'..? Well, here's the big secret. You didn't wake up. You were sleepwalking. That's the end of this very long and boring story."

"Very well, alright," Milton's goodnatured grin had a hint of malice in it. "How do you explain what happened to you, then? Sleepwalking, were you?"

"What do you mean?" Jack snapped.

"Kim told me what you said when you woke up. About a girl without a face."

Jack's mouth hung open for a second too long before he shook himself and waved a dismissive hand.

"I was... Hallucinating. Something in the air at night. You said so yourself. Or have you now come around to believe in this ghost nonsense?"

Milton narrowed his eyes, "I saw what I saw."

"And haven't you had nightmares already? About bullies and hurt friends? Anxiety, you said, brought on by the new location."

Try as he might, Milton's eyes darted guiltily to Kim and Jack saw it for his eyes narrowed and his jaw clenched.

"You had some dreams too. You told me," Milton wasn't giving up. Something was going on here...

"Quiet," Jack was glaring at him in warning.

"No no, let me finish. I'm going somewhere with this. You had your dream-" Milton paused for emphasis here and continued, "and Kim had hers. And then the next night she and I had our visions of you tonight that brought us out only to find you babbling about a-"

"Shut. Up. Details are not relevant..."

Milton shrugged, "I don't think so. You see, Kim here... She came up just a little while after you. Look at her. Can't be more than five foot tall-"

"Five foot four inches," Kim interjected, then clapped a hand over her mouth when the two men turned their glares on her.

Milton continued his concentrated assault, "She can't weigh more than a hundred and ten pounds. She walked through those same halls, and she didn't see, or feel a damned thing. Yet you saw screaming horrors and fainted dead away. How do you explain that?"

Jack broke eye contact and looked distantly over Milton's right shoulder, "I was in that wing and that room far longer than-"

Milton sighed, "Look. I'm scared, I'll admit it. I just want to know what we're dealing with."

Jack actually smiled at this, "Well, I have a working theory on that, if you care to listen."

* * *

Kim couldn't put a finger on it, until that very moment, but she realized what has made her so wary of Jack. He was ever so slightly changed. Instead of typical cockiness was the condescending arrogance. Something happened to him in the house at night, whether a walking dream that took him to the fourth floor or something that his nightly vision conjured up, but he wouldn't admit it. And he was overcompensating for it by being unusually bullish.

He was caustic and sharp with Milton and he positively avoided coming near her. She felt the distance and couldn't understand what brought this on. She guiltily wondered if he somehow sensed what her dream was about and was now steering clear of her. If he did, then she was ready to die of mortification.

He also told them of his theory. Which was a version of the Laird's theory. In a nutshell: they were victims of a very elaborate sabotage by the McCrarys. All part of the ongoing feud that now evolved from bloody skirmishes and stolen goats into a serious competitiveness over the games at the gathering.

Milton scoffed at it. Quite literally. But Jack was adamant. To build his case he cited the selectivity of all the maladies and incidents so far. The point, apparently, was to incapacitate in some fashion the young residents of Turlann to handicap them during the competitions. His other point was that both McKrupnicks and McCrarys agreed to being dead serious over the competitions, which Kim herself could attest to. He said it with enough drollness to make it a point onto its own. Apparently her lakeside walk with Angus was nothing more than a recognizance mission made infinitely easier by her swooning over a brutish highlander. At this point Jack was nearly sneering at her and she just couldn't understand the impetus for it.

Any of it.

Why would Jack be so insistent it was an elaborate sabotage? Why was he so suspicious of McCrarys? Why would McCrarys go to such length? Why focus on them, the Americans, who for the most part weren't even part of Milton's clan? Why was he so cold to her? Why he mocked her over her very short meeting with Angus? Why?

"Why?" she said outloud. At his piercing look she continued, "Why would McCrary do all this just to win? And no, just to get the glory of victory is not enough of an explanation. If what you said is true and they tried to- drug us, wouldn't that be awfully careless of them? What if one of us hurt themselves or hurt another person?"

"Remember Kai and the competition in China?" Jack retorted coldly. "And that was my own family, who tried to harm me just for the glory of the victory!"

Kim quailed a little, but then rallied again. "No offense, but your cousin is bonkers and the victory in China brought him accolades in the karate world. What does a good game of shinty bring to a winning team? Besides, Angus doesn't seem like the type of person, who would do all this sabotage."

Jack's tone, when he spoke, was cutting enough to make her heart bleed with hurt, "And you, of course, know everything about Angus. Why, he was so conveniently there when you fell by the lake. He helped you up and offered his company. He chatted you up and called you _bonny lass_. All this qualifies you as an expert on him and his motivations. How interesting..."

Kim has had enough of these arrogance and meanness, "I am not his close friend or anything, so, no, I can't speak to his true character. But I have good instincts and they served me well before. Like when I decided to give up the Black Dragons to join you all. But you seem to have forgotten that. Go ahead, call me a stupid girl to my face. You pretty much said it anyway. I don't know what happened to you tonight, but in your defensiveness you insulted me and my intelligence. I'm too tired to deal with your ungrateful ass, so I am going to bed. Buh-bye."

She stood up, tightened her robe, and walked out of the kitchen with all the grace of the offended royalty.

Privately she thought that all the fluttering butterflies in the world were not sufficient to deal with his high-handed ass.

When she was already in bed she recalled the dream-kiss and wondered if it was possible to want someone, who you kind of hated at the moment.


	8. Chapter 8

Kim's footsteps faded in the hall when Milton turned to his friend, "Well, you really blew it this time."

Jack scowled, but the real belligerence left him the moment Kim stepped out of the room. It was most disconcerting, "I didn't blow anything. She obviously is... sensitive right now. And I still think that I am right."

"About what? That the McCrarys are the ones poisoning us or that Kim is too susceptible to the charms of the local men in kilts?"

There was a knowing sort of smirk in his dark blue eyes and Jack scowled even harder, "Both, if you insist."

"I thought your crush on Kim is gone."

"It is. I care about her as a friend and, honestly, what do we know about this guy other than he is a giant and play this _shinty_ thing very well?" Jack grumbled, but quickly moved on from that topic. "But more importantly, Milton, you must see that my explanation is at least something we must explore. Because otherwise, the only option left is supernatural and I don't think any of us are equipped to deal with it. You were the one who thought of the poison in the first place. What changed your mind?"

Milton sighed, somehow Jack's relaxed mood making him more relaxed too, "I sort of experimented. I didn't eat or drink anything that was served to us and I still had that dream or vision of you, followed you and was at that weird cellar room."

Jack gaped at Milton, "You- didn't eat anything?"

"Well, it wasn't a pure experiment, obviously, since I ate and drank when we first arrived. It is possible that the drug has cumulative effect. Or it must be in the air..."

"Then why were you believed that it was the ghosts and the curse?"

"Well," Milton shrugged. "For one, to me it felt like reality. With the previous nightmare, I knew that the scenario playing out wasn't real, couldn't be real. I knew in my dream that it was a dream. Tonight it was as if I woke up and saw you, the real flesh and blood you, talked to you..." Milton trailed off a little at that. "If you paid attention to me earlier Jack," Milton drawled, "the drugs give users vivid and graphic dreams, but there was nothing in the notes about sleep walking."

They were silent for a moment.

"What did you see Jack? Something about the girl with no face," Milton asked gently.

Jack visibly flinched and the same closed and haughty expression was on firmly on his face. He was irritated and ashamed that he was so week and suggestible, "The damned drug made me disoriented and light headed. I thought I saw something, someone. Obviously there was no one, which is why I didn't see a face, ergo, a girl with no face."

"Hey, Jack, you know that there is no shame in being affected by any of this. We all are affected and I would vent-"

Jack suddenly perked up and looked at Milton with bright eyes, "Wait... Are we sure we are all affected? Jerry and Rudy aren't or we would have heard from them for sure. Clearly the Laird is not or he is hiding it. His wife claimed that the house has this supernatural energy, but she really is not affected, is she?"

"When did she say that to you?" Milton was serious and grabbed his own phone.

"In the morning. She was awake and told me that the house is tempestuous, that Kim is sensitive to its energies, that Isla is a witch of something."

"Hmm, and the book on herbs and witchcraft was in the library and was recently used. It could have been Isla and even Lady Fiona... Still makes no sense why would _they_ do it..."

"Which is why I think it is someone from the outside, making use of the existing legend of the curse and ghosts as a cover for their actions," Jack finished.

Milton sat pensively, his mind working to connect the dots, "Yes, the ghost story is quite popular. I heard it in America, so everyone here must know it. The idea of it was already planted in our minds and then the drug made it worse by conjuring the dreams and visions."

"It's possible that Lady Fiona genuinely believes it," Jack said feeling better at having somewhat absolved their hostess. " She might not be behind the incidents, but someone is messing with us."

"Ok. So we can't test for anything ourselves, but we can try and monitor the going on of the manor. Maybe check who this Isla girl is. See what sort of things the neighbors did to reach other, " Milton paused and looked at Jack. "Are you calm now?" At Jack's nod he went on, "maybe Kim could be our eyes and ears and if Angus is as nice as she suggested, she can try and pump him for info." He gave Jack another measuring look, "that means she might have to spend time with him. Talk to him..."

Jack saw what Milton was doing and he wanted to argue that it would be fine, that he would be fine, but he was irritated already. Kim, and her attentions, were somehow something he felt territorial over. He fought with his baser instincts.

"I get it. It's fine. We need to get to the bottom of this and checking out Angus is necessary."

Milton got up to leave, "Well, with that resolved, I will go and try to get some sleep," he started walking, but then hesitated at the door. "I suggest you apologize to Kim. She is right that we should trust her judgement and you haven't thanked her for finding you tonight."

Jack knew his friend was right. He did. He also knew his jealousy ( and it was jealousy) wasn't warranted.

But he also knew that when he saw her this night in the hall, her face so beautiful and eyes so deep and alluring, he wanted to kiss her so badly. When she touched him, he felt it all the way to his core and he wanted to arrange a place to be alone with her to see if all her touches felt that way.

He secretly was worried that whether the drug or the curse, were changing him and Kim and even if they resolved this particular situation, things between them would never go back to the way they were. Already he had troubled separating the dream induced lust and possessiveness from the more natural state of mild protectiveness and jealousy. Of all those feelings only protectiveness of a friend was acceptable. Jealousy, possessiveness and lust were not anything to be proud of. He had no right to any of those feelings and while lust could be explained as something he hardly could fully control, it had nothing to do with tenderness and affection. And if he, under the influence of his hormones or this house and its secretes, attempted to act to this lust, he would ruin everything that was good between them.

No, he needed to control himself around her. He was her friend first and foremost. To that end, he really needed to apologize.

* * *

Morning found Kim more tired than ever, but she couldn't fall asleep again. Between the unsettling dream about Jack - and their kiss - and their fight in the aftermath of the nocturnal adventures, she had plenty to occupy her mind. She got up and dressed when she heard the roosters and the eastern end of the sky was already pink. She ambled to the kitchen and startled to see Isla there. The young woman gave Kim a long and assessing look and then proceed to serve her a piping hot cup of coffee.

"I thought people exclusively drink tea here," Kim joked as she accepted the large mug.

"Aye, we do. But you are an American and I thought coffee would be better for you. Especially this morning..."

Kim startled again, " _Especially this morning_? How did you... That is... What made you think I needed coffee?"

Isla smiled gently at Kim, "Only that I know how this house is sometimes. At night. And you aren't used to it, like Lady Fiona is. And I recognize a tired person when I see one."

Kim looked away self consciously, "I must really look a fright, if you made coffee for me." Then the rest of what Isla said sunk in, "What do you mean about _this house at night_? Do you think there is a curse or a ghost here?"

Isla stopped her task of laying biscuits on the tray, "Everything has energy, an aura. Especially living things, but places like this - the old house that saw many people live and die here - it would have traces and memories of those past. Some could see it, some cold feel it, some could hear it."

Kim processed what the other woman said and, though it sounded like the hippy Wiccan stuff popular on the West Coast, she had to admit that her personal experiences here were giving this theory some credibility.

"It sounded a lot like the confirmation of the ghost and curses story. Do you know anything about it?"

"I know what everyone knows: the rumor of the curse and the cursed spirits," Isla was careful in her wording.

"But is it true?"

"That, my lass, is lost in time. If there was a truth to it, then it was so long ago, no one can tell for sure. Yet, people like to think it is somewhat true. And, like I said, the house has memories. Who knows what it remembers..."

"You said that Lady Fiona has gotten used to this... house. Did she have dreams like... That is to say, I had some pretty weird dreams while here..."

"You should ask her. I think she hasn't those kind of dreams in a long time."

It was Kim's impression that Isla both wanted her to believe in the supernatural explanations to everything that went on here, and yet withheld something from Kim. As if Isla wanted Kim to keep having these dreams... Strange and weird... Everything here was strange and weird...

"Are you ready for the gathering?" Isla's voice interrupted Kim's musings.

"Ah- maybe? Laird Alistair made it sound like a state fairs at home, but Angus told me it was a lot more competitive and the games sound quite interesting. Unusual, but definitively interesting."

A smile that appeared on Isla's face at the mention of Angus' name quickly faded and when she spoke next, her voice had that forced lightness to it, "Ye met Angus of MacCrarys? Didn't think ye had time to walk around here."

Kim was starting to think that the feud between the two neighboring clans was definitely not buried in the past as the Laird suggested. Isla's reaction to Kim's acquaintance with Angus was yet another indication of it.

"I met him at the lake yesterday. He is a proud Scot and wanted to tell the ignorant American all about church door flipping and the shinty. Are you taking part in the games?" Kim tried to be polite and engage the now visibly frosty Isla.

"Sheaf tossing," the answer was curt.

"Is that-?" Kim began.

"Why don't you ask Angus. You seem to have made friends already here. I have breakfast to prepare."

Kim heard the dismissal and left the kitchen wondering if everyone would be pissed about her meeting Angus. Scotland was kind of weird so far. As were people here. Even the ones she knew from before were acting weird.

She left the manor and went to the lake, eager to put the place and its inhabitants - living and otherwise - behind.

The morning light was gorgeous and the rising fog from the lake filtered and refracted the golden pink of the morning into the beautiful veil of opalescent glow and it made everything look like it was straight from the magical fairy tale. At any moment, Kim expected fay inhabitants of druid myths to coalesce from the mist and light to offer her a glimpse of their world.

She walked slowly taking in beautiful morning, the magnificent land, the quiet of the moment... There were only faint chirps of morning songbirds, fading quickly as Kim walked closer to the wooden pier feeling like she was stepping into the fairy tale. Soon even the faintest sound disappeared and she sat down at the end of the pear and looked onto the still surface of the lake obscured by the rising mist. She had her phone out trying to capture the breathtaking calm and loveliness of the moment. She fiddled with the apps opening her camera and adjusting the flash and angle and then lifted the phone up. It was easy to snap pictures as she tried to capture the moment a tendril of fog rose and swirled slightly, forming a small cloud right in front of her. She was looking at the phone screen and it took her a moment to realize that the fog kept swirling into a denser formation. She looked up to take in the whole view and gasped.

Before her the fog solidified into a definite shape of young woman or a girl. The form was smokey white and translucent, but it definitely was human shaped. Kim, suddenly cold and afraid, was petrified into a spot and watched as the cloud rose and slowly turned as if to face her. Kim was scared and yet fascinated as the shape before her turned fully to reveal a blank space where face would have been. It seemed to stop in place and then tendrils of fog rose from its sides as if it was raising its arms and they were stretched towards her. Kim shivered and tried to move back, inexplicably afraid of the touch, and in the scuffle she lost the grip in her phone and it fell between the planks of the pier. She looked down for the second and when she lifted her head up the next moment, the foggy arms were almost upon her and she could already feel the cold emanating from them. Abandoning the search for her phone, she tried to scramble from the edge of the pier, making a clumsy turn. Somehow her legs were too uncoordinated and she could not get up fully, so she tried to crawl away, hands shaking and legs feeling like a jello.

 _Help... Help..._ But her throat was clogged and she was still tangled in her own clothes and she tried to pull herself forward by the strength of her two arms.

Help... A croak did finally escape her throat and it was as if the sound gave her and the mist some spur or strength. She started crawling harder, inching away from the edge just as it felt that her legs were caught in something, held by something. She didn't dare to look and tried to kick as hard as she could and she could tell that her nails broke at the effort. Fear, sticky and cold was climbing up her spine... Or was it the misty figure of the vengeful spirit.

 _Help..._ She whimpered again and with one more kick she thought she broke free, only for her movement was too strong and she overbalanced and suddenly she was falling from the side of the peer into the murky water of the lake...

It was cold and murky and green and she held her mouth tight to avoid inhaling some of it. She was sure she'd puke if she did. She knew how to swim, but the fear that gripped her held on to her even in the water and she simply kicked in uncoordinated fashion. Her leg was caught in something yet again and she couldn't break to the surface no matter how hard she tried to pull up.

Her lungs burned without air and her eyes hurt from the dirty water.

Everything was getting dim, her limbs growing heavy and slow, and she had the cramp in the leg that she couldn't free and Kim was losing hope that she'd make out of this adventure, when she heard a noise that sounded like a splash, only it was distant and quiet. She didn't dare to look, afraid that she'd see something like the apparition of the misty figure in the water, when two arms grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her up. She actually opened her mouth to scream, only for the lake water to start flowing and making her gag.

Whatever or whoever were puling her met the same resistance she had because her trapped leg wouldn't let her go up and the person - and it was a person, a male - let go of her and swam past her to follow her leg. Warm hands ran down her calf, and then did something that freed her ankle, and then her savior hugged her around the middle and pushed them both out of the water...

When she was finally on the shore, coughing up and being grateful that water hid her tears, she finally took a look at her rescuer.

"Now, I always was told that this lake had a mysterious creature in its depth, I just never reckoned it'd be a mermaid."

Angus, wet and bright eyed, was peering at her. His arms were still loosely around her - warm and sure - and she never was more grateful to see another person than at that moment.


	9. Chapter 9

Milton woke as soon as the early summer dawn found its fullness and crept through the gap in his curtains. Dawn was becoming a relief here. The sun brought a golden light to the manor that seemed to still its chaos. Milton rubbed his eyes. He was still exhausted, but sleep was no longer a refuge. He felt it must be avoided where possible. Even after the exhausting events of last night, when he finally fell into bed and his eyes began to drift helplessly closed, he started awake several times in fear. He didn't want to dream.

He swung his legs out of bed and rubbed his face roughly. Coffee. No, too much stimulation. Tea. Tea would be wonderful. He realized last night that if someone was poisoning all of the water supply here in the manor, then all of the inhabitants would have showed the symptoms. He was rather inclined to think that only he, Jack and Kim were affected and how that was achieved was not clear yet. Still, it was not enough reason to avoid eating here. He dressed quickly, yawning.

He didn't see Jack in the room and went about getting ready. Walking down the hall, he paused in front of Kim's door, hoping that she got enough sleep after last night. Even though he wasn't the one who pissed her off, he still felt compelled to apologize. He knocked lightly, but there was no sound so he just went to the dining room, expecting to find someone there.

He was right: Rudy and Jerry were there, finishing their breakfast. Both looked tired and he wondered if they had the same troubles as he and Jack and Kim.

"Morning," he said. Twin half smiles greeted him and he asked, "What's up with you two? Didn't sleep well? Bad dreams?"

Rudy and Jerry exchanged guilty looks and then Rudy mumbled, "No, we were at the lake. Searching for the Loch Ness Monster."

"A what? You do realize that Loch Ness is a different lake altogether? Or that no one has ever proven that there was a monster in that lake? You two actually believed that there was a water creature there? And you went there at night? Are you OK?"

One more sheepish glance between the two and then, "We are fine. Hungry, tired, and feeling kind of stupid, but we're fine."

Milton wondered just what exactly happened for either of these two to admit that they were stupid, but figured that he couldn't borrow any more headaches given what had been happening with him and the two black belts.

"Ok," he acknowledged. "Have you seen Kim or Jack this morning?"

"No, but Isla said that Kim was up early and went on a walkabout. Something about finding answers about sheaf toss. I'm not sure I even heard it right."

"What about the tickets out?

"I booked us on the stand-by basis. And apparently the weather here is so unpredictable, we might get stuck if it's too foggy, or rainy, or windy. You get the picture. British Isles and the weather."

Since no one saw Jack yet, Milton figured that his friend went for another run to clear his head. He tried to look for Kim, but had no inclination to go around the whole estate and in the end decided to read more from that book in the library.

* * *

Milton almost skipped on his way to the library. It truly was beautiful, the house. As menacing as it was in darkness it was majestic in light. Dark shadows flooded out to reveal vast, intricate tapestries; the figures lurking in corners dropped their night-masks to reveal the blank eyes of solemn, perfect statues. Milton felt almost high on the utter relief of morning. As he crossed the hall however, he couldn't help but let a shiver take him for a moment.

The door to the cellar was open.

It was dark as ever in the cellar. Not even a tiny, forgiving window set high to let the daylight pour in slow as treacle. It was always night down there.

Still, so easy to dismiss it all as a dream in the kindness of day...

Milton shook off the creeping feeling and continued his march towards the kitchen. The entrance hall relapsed to stillness as his footsteps faded.

Then, with a distant "Oh, damn it!" they returned.

Flustered, Milton strode towards the cellar door.

 _I have to do this,_ he thought. _I have to know._

A box of matches lay beside a candlestick on a chiffonier in one corner. He lit the candle with hands already beginning to shake. Even standing in the doorway and stretching his arm out as far as it would go, the tall flame of the candle only illuminated the first five steps. The darkness seemed thicker down there.

Steeling himself, Milton took a deep breath and set foot on the first step.

* * *

Jack was finishing his morning jog and thinking that he needed to apologize to Kim. He hoped to run into her on the way out, but she was already up and he had to shelf that idea. He hasn't slept again, not that it helped him any. Kim and his fight with her crowded his thoughts and, naturally, it led him to the more intense and shocking thoughts of her. When she found him in the fourth floor hallway, he was still affected by his vision and to see her there, her image overlayed onto the image of the faceless girl, gave him a whiplash of emotions. He desperately wanted her out of danger, but the dark of the night and her soft touch - just her nearness - made him want to keep touching and searching for more... So much more...

He was embarrassed beyond limit that he fainted in front of her. He was mortified that he succumbed to the effects of the house. He was terrified of his growing physical reaction to Kim. So he lashed out. He couldn't even pretend to not be jealous of Angus - and how was it even a real name? - and it was probably only because Kim was tired that she didn't realize it. Milton did though. And called him out on it. It was a good thing that the mystery of their adventures here easily distracted their brainy friend.

He was almost back to the trail that took him by the pier when he spotted a drenched tall redhead kneeling by the edge of the lake. He couldn't quite see what was happening, so he was about to turn back to the manor, when the guy moved a little. And there she was. The girl of his dreams and nightmares. Quite literally. She was also drenched, her hair a tumble of dark gold and her top clinging to her skin.

 _Why were her clothes wet?_

He was already turning towards her as his thoughts jumped around, his brain processing the visual information.

 _What was happening here? Why was she wet? And in her clothes? With a strange guy? A big guy? Whose pale giant paws were all over her delicate body and that warm skin? Was this the infamous Angus?_

By the time he reached Kim, Jack was not quite as contrite as he had been earlier. He was... concerned. And frustrated. And peeved. And maybe a little suspicious to see the possible enemy so near her.

"Kim! What is going here?"

He was gratified to see her swivel fast at him. Her companion didn't jump or even startle. He even held Kim up when she turned too fast and almost overbalanced. His paw was firmly placed on the small of Kim's back and Jack gritted his teeth.

"Jack!" she exclaimed with a nervous smile that faded quickly and her face took on a haughty look. "You seem fine this morning, no?" she added coldly.

"I am," the words were gravel in his mouth and he pushed them out forcefully. "Thanks for last night. And sorry for being short with you."

She gave him a long calculating look and then turned to the guy, "Jack, please meet Angus McCrary, our neighbor. And this is Jack, one of my friends."

The two men simply nodded to each other. Angus got up slowly, helping Kim up and Jack had to admit that the guy was quite large. And fit. Which he could see very clearly considering that his tshirt clung to his torso.

"So, is it normal in Scotland to swim in your clothes?" Jack aimed for levity, but he was sure his glare was quite hard.

"Nay, 'tis not. Only, Kim here decided to take pictures of the lake in the morning and lost grip on her phone. Went to look for it and over tipped into water. And then some pond weed tangled around her leg, so I got to take an early morning swim meself, clothes and all," Angus told it all jovially, grinning at Kim.

Kim blushed hard, but her smile was more nervous than bashful and Jack's heart squeezed hard when he thought of her drowning. The anger and jealousy he felt for Angus didn't fade, but the fear for her well-being grew stronger and he felt compelled to thank the village oaf.

"Thank you, man."

"I don't mind. I now get to tell people that I caught an honest-to-god mermaid in this lake," Angus winked at Kim and just like that Jack's gratitude evaporated.

"Did you find your phone?" Jack asked abruptly and Kim winced.

"No, the water's too murky-" "Nay, was too busy fetching Kim-" both Kim and Angus spoke at once.

It was the jealousy and competitiveness that made Jack take off his running top.

"Jack! What are-" Kim began and then trailed off and averted her eyes. Not that he saw it as he was already walking to the pier.

"Where did you drop it?"

She pointed and soon Jack was wading the water to look for the phone. He heard a splash and saw that Angus joined him walking along the other side of the wooden walkway.

"There is really no need. It's probably useless now anyway," Kim said to them, but the two guys ignored her and she sat down, resigned.

"How did you lose it exactly?" Jack grumbled and Kim took a long time to answer.

"I- I was taking pictures. It was misty, you know, and I was fiddling with filters and then... I turned and it just- fell out of my hands," her voice was soft and her tone hesitant enough that both of guys looked up at her. She was pale and looked pointedly away from the water and Jack realized again that she was scared when she thought she was drowning.

And he wasn't the only one.

"I tell you, the pond weed got your leg and water is dirty. No wonder you couldn't get free," Angus offered gently and Kim jerked her shoulders in the dismissive way.

It was hopeless to find anything in the dark green water that was made even more murky by the two of them kicking up the sediment. When he came ashore, Kim was sitting again and rubbing her ankle in the absent minded fashion. Maybe because she was rubbing it or maybe from her unplanned swim earlier, but the skin was reddish and Jack marched towards her. He plopped down next to her and pointed at her leg, silently asking if she was alright.

"It's fine. I'm fine. It's nothing. Just this weed was kind of strong and I couldn't kick it off," Kim was chattering nervously.

Jack wordlessly shook his head. Being in close proximity to Kim was becoming more... Difficult. He shouldn't have come to inspect her now, but that would have seemed odd. He was hyper aware of the fact that his knee was pressed into her leg... That her sweet, bright face was raised to him as she trustingly offered her leg for him to inspect... How slim her ankle was... How, underneath the saltiness of the lake water, she smelled of crushed jasmine, with a sweet girly note that made him-

"Jack... I think it's quite alright now!"

Jack widened his eyes slightly as he came back to himself and realized that he actually had her ankle in his hands and his hold quite tight. His felt it then, the finest tremble in his hands. It didn't show yet, but he felt it inside, like the current trying to reach the surface. _Mustn't give anything away._ He glanced down at Kim's foot and ankle, his fingers digging in just a little, creating little white half-moons where the blood was pressed away.

"Yeah... Sorry about that."

Kim nodded and he loosened his hold. Jack bent closer, focusing on the reddened faint line. This time his touch was feather light. Yet, Kim's tiny intake of breath almost undid him.

 _The mark. Focus on the mark._

The first touch was just a tip of the index finger, which he continued down the line. In the almost complete silence he could hear her quiet breathing. Images from his dreams began to flood his brain.

 _No. He was stronger than his own want. Kim was off limits._

(her arms thrown back behind her head as she- her ribcage as delicate as a birds as she- her eyes closing in ecstasy as she-)

A real gasp from Kim brought him back to reality. He had pulled back and dropped her foot, making it hit the ground beneath.

What was wrong with him? Kim wondered, pulling her foot almost under herself. He was brusque with her again. He got up abruptly and went to grab his discarded shirt.

"It's fine. Not even a bruise."

"I told you-"

"It's just some weed, not a river shark," Angus offered in good humor and Jack startled to realize that he forgot about the other guy.

Kim seemingly realized the same thing. She blushed again and walked over to Angus.

"Thank you. Again."

"'Tis nothing. You should get inside. You'll catch cold being all wet."

She nodded and the two walked towards the manor.

The sound of their footsteps faded. She was gone. Jack breathed out slowly and unfurled his hands that were clenched into fists. After a moment he shook his head and set out towards the manor at a slow pace. Behind the confident veneer of his ego lay a quaking fear that he would have to admit to himself that he was losing control.

* * *

Down in the cellar the muzzy darkness closed around Milton in a vast suffocating cloak. He took a moment at the bottom of the stairs to take stock, calm himself, but already his hands were shaking violently enough to make the candle flame gutter and choke on it's melting wax. Last night, still dizzy with sleep and in company (or so he'd thought) the cellar had seemed different, a little less foreboding. Alone, it was disconcertingly quiet, and huge. The light from his candle glinted off rows and rows of dusty wine bottles as Milton made his way deeper into the immense space beneath the house. He couldn't shake the feeling that wherever he looked, just beyond the glow of the candle, something was watching him.

He reached the corner he had turned the night before and stopped. The watchfulness of the walls seemed to intensify.

 _Come on_ , he chided himself inwardly. _You're a grown man. What are you frightened of?_

The answer rose in his mind ominously. He gritted his teeth and lunged around the corner.

The same, big room. The only light now from his sputtering candle. Stone walls and ceiling tactile with soft dust and swathed in cobwebs. Endless racks of wine lining every wall.

Every wall.

The doorway was gone.

"What the..." Milton spoke aloud, bewildered. He raised the candle higher and squinted. Yes, it was here that dream-Jack had brought him. The doorway to the small room had been over there, spilling its sickly light into the cellar.

Milton moved closer and set the candle down, running his hands over the dusty rows of wine where the door had been. He looked at the bottles. Thick dust coating every one, undisturbed for decades.

Jack's insistence that he had been sleepwalking began to make sense. Milton sighed. Mostly, he felt relieved. He picked up the candle and turned to leave.

A sudden noise almost made him drop it. Shuddering violently, Milton's first impulse was not to run, but to shut his eyes tightly.

No. This wasn't real. This couldn't be real.

Familiar, grotesque, a sound from his nightmare came from behind him. The heavy creak of a cradle rocking on the stone floor. Milton started to run as another noise rose to fill the cellar at a sickening pitch. The thin, catlike wail of a newborn child.

The bottles of wine began to vibrate with the frequency as Milton dashed blindly past. The walls shook.

Breathless, the room spinning around him, Milton emerged into the welcome, blessed, perfect light of the entrance hall. He slammed the door to the cellar shut behind him, pulled the bolt across and fell against it, panting.

The unreality of it, he thought wildly. The uncanny horror of it. Milton head ached with the effort to make logical sense of what he had seen, coming up again and again with nothing. Like fistfuls of sand underwater, every explanation dissolved in the current, leaving one, ridiculous certainty.

Were they influenced by chemicals or... was this house is haunted?


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: Couple of notes. Our protagonists haven't fully conversed with one another to discuss all that is happening to them. Jack is embarrassed, as is Milton, and Kim feels like they don't believe her. Also, their moods are affected too, making mutual trust difficult. Kim gets some insight in this chapter.

* * *

Kim was typing feverishly, staring at Jerry's phone. She borrowed his phone seeing as hers was gone. She wanted to know if ghostly apparitions were known to haunt open air spaces, like lakes. _She wanted to go back home._ She shook off the thought. This was illogical. And she was being hysterical.

She forced herself to refocus and instead looked up the sheaf tossing. Reading about historical Scottish games was doing well in taking her mind off the illogical weirdness of the house and transported her back into the comfortable realms of reality.

Lost in her reading, she barely registered the knock at her door.

"Come in," she said patiently. The door creaked open and she looked up, expecting her friends or sensei. It was neither.

"Isla?"

The young woman came quietly into the room and shut the door.

"I wanted to talk with you," she said. Instead of the archaic maid uniform she wore a shredded rock band t-shirt and tight black jeans. She was barefoot, carrying an armful of books. She looked like a completely different person.

"Of course," Kim took off her glasses and rubbed her eyes. "What is it?"

Isla padded across the room and sat on Kim 's bed. She nibbled at her thumbnail.

"You should leave Turlann. The house, the estate, the county, Scotland... Just go home. Leave."

Kim shut her laptop, "I'm going to ask why, obviously."

Isla looked at her directly and then blurted, "It is not safe here. The House has been so active since you came."

"The House-?" Kim faltered and then regrouped, "Then why not ask the others to leave too?" Kim could actually hear the capital letter in house, as if Isla treated this place as its own entity.

Isla regarded her steadily for a while, "I should have talked to you earlier..." She sighed deeply and visibly gathered strength, "I would like to tell you about this House," she said at last. "And why it is you who will suffer unlike the others."

Kim left her laptop to join Isla on the bed. She glanced at the books that Isla had brought with her.

"What are these?"

"For you, if you stay. You will need protection."

Kim noticed a pentagram on the cover of one of them, "You mean... Isla. I'm not sure if I believe in-"

" _Airson an gràdh Dhè!_ " Isla interrupted exasperatedly. "Have you not seen enough? The House, it is inside the three of you now. Your friend, the clansman, he is afraid and doesn't trust his own eyes. Mr. Brewer is losing his mind and does't trust his heart. I know you have seen something, dreamed something perhaps. And others haven't believed you, so you don't trust them. When you have a problem with things that are physical, yes, you need science and medicine, but you know it is not that way here."

Kim bit her lip, feeling like she was laid open with her fears for all to see, "How do you know all of this?"

"I am... observant," Isla said cryptically. She reached out to grasp Kim 's hand. "The House. It will take you first."

"I don't understand," Kim searched Isla's face, but fear was already taking root in her heart. "How are you safe here?"

"I come from a long line of women who know how to deal with things such as this," Isla shrugged. "Before my mother's interference, Lady Fiona would barely leave her room. The Laird made her come here. My mother and I gave her protection. Talismans. Spells. So that she, like I, could move freely without interference."

"What about Laird Alistair?"

"He was away a lot on business matters. And he is the type, you know, to brush things away. Besides, he is not the target."

"So you explanation is that nothing happened to him in this house because he doesn't believe in it?" Kim drawled a little and her unspoken conclusion - _then I chose not to believe as well_ \- was too obvious to ignore.

Isla looked down at her books, "He hadn't done anything to upset the House," she said quietly. "He isn't sensitive to it, like you are. Like you friends are. Two weeks before you came, things began to get, how do you say, _fhoiseil..._ Turbulent... And not just in the house, no?"

Kim 's blood ran cold. If Isla was right and the house could sense her coming ahead of time... And the lake incident... "How did you know about it?" Kim asked suspiciously. She hasn't told anyone about her morning vision.

"I- I was upset when I talked to you in the morning, in the kitchen. I should have talked to you sooner. It is-" Isla bit her lips and looked away. "Angus told me that he had to fish you out of the lake."

Kim recoiled at the words used, "I- What?"

"No, don't take offense. It is only that he- he said he saved you from drowning. He was worried you'd catch cold before the gathering and won't attend..." Isla blushed pretty hard at this point and looked upset and it finally dawned on Kim that Isla was sweet on Angus.

"Oh... Do you and him-? I didn't know and, really, there was noth-"

"Nay, lass, don't you worry. You didn't come between us. He is a friend and that is how he sees me," there was an air of resignation and sadness in Isla's words and Kim felt commiseration with the young woman.

There was silence afterwards that Kim didn't dare to break. It was Isla, who spoke next, "I should have known that the House would try to grab you anywhere, even on the lake."

Kim tried to parse out what Isla suggested. It would seem that the young woman thought that the curse or whatever was trying to-

"Exactly," said Isla, studying her face. "It will continue until the House has taken what it wishes to take." She picked up one of the books, "Powerful magic in here. Spells for protection."

Kim didn't dare to look away.

Finally, Isla flicked through it and frowned, "Young McKrupnick has been studying pages out of my books."

"Isla," Kim said quietly, "What happened here?"

Isla sighed and looked at her sadly, "From what I could see in my dreams... And the way that the walls speak... And old stories passed down through the generations of McKrupnick... I could bring together the whole story. Terrible things happened in this House."

"Tell me."

Isla closed the book and muttered a short incantation in Gaelic, "To guard the room as I speak," she said. They do not like me to tell it. Are you certain that you wish to know?"

Kim nodded, her eyes fearful, and Isla began to speak.

"Many years ago, during the 17th century, the McKrupnicks were a proud family. Blue blood of this land. Laird McKrupnick kept his clan safe and the men paid him back. They were rich and wanted for nothing. The house has not changed so much since those grand times. The tapestries are the same."

Isla sighed and traced the spine of one of the books.

"They had three daughters, the laird and lady of the Turlann. The eldest was especially beautiful, and good spirited, and sweet. They say such beauty has not been seen in the family since this girl. Her name was Aimil. Many men wished to be her husband when she came of age.

"But when she turned sixteen, she became bad tempered and withdrawn. She no longer cared for her appearance. Her long blonde hair turned from silk to straw. Her face lost its glow. She was no longer the sweet, happy girl she had been. Something had changed. Every day she got worse. Until one day... She disappeared."

Kim felt a chill begin to creep under her skin, "Was she ever found?"

"No. Laird McKrupnick said that he heard rumors that she had eloped with the traveling blacksmith who was passing through at the time. She had been so sullen and rebellious that this seemed the most likely explanation. But only one month after Aimil's disappearance, the second eldest girl, Morag, began to suffer the same symptoms as Aimil had before. It was around this time that the first signs of a haunting began to shake the McKrupnick House. This House. The haunting seemed to be concentrated around Laird McKrupnick. It tormented him nightly, he could get no rest. In time, he was driven mad by it. Two months after the disappearance of his daughter, Laird McKrupnick was found dead, his body floating in the lake beside the jetty. He had drowned. When they turned the body over, they saw that his face had frozen in an expression of such horror that it made one see death just to look at it.

"After the death of the master of the House, Morag's strange illness improved. The family moved to Edinburgh. The House lay empty for almost half-century before it was occupied again."

Isla went quiet, then turned a stare of such intensity on Kim that she shifted away from her on the bed.

"But you know as much as I do that there was more to this story," Isla spoke fast, "Aimil wrote in journals every day, like most who lived back then and were literate. I have found all but one, the last one. But the rest told me enough."

Her mouth twisted in sadness and revulsion.

"He started the night before her sixteenth birthday. Before that he did it to many nearby girls. Many... Even from neighboring lands... Caused quite a lot of scandals. But then his own daughter blossomed... He took her to the stables to do it. Where she could not be heard. When she fell pregnant he killed her. I do not know how, but I am certain her remains are still inside this House. But Aimil returned to stop the same fate from befalling her younger sister."

Isla took both of Kim 's hands in hers, palm up, and held them tightly.

"There are two forces inside this house, Kim. One is sweet and good but sad... So sad, and confused. Sometimes she forgets that she is dead and runs about the halls as she did when she was alive. The other... Is pure evil. She will try to send a warning before he can cause harm. I saw your susceptibility the moment you arrived. You are like me, but you do not have my knowledge. You are too open for this. Please leave here."

Kim's head spun as she tried to process this new information. She did want to leave, to run from this place of such sadness and pain and never look back. But there was something deeper inside her, something new, a voice that was at once familiar and ancient-

 _Don't leave me_ , it said. _Help. Me._

"You said my friends can feel it too? Why would they-" Kim wasn't sure how to phrase it. If Kim was susceptible to the point of physical interactions, then why would ghost bother Milton and Jack?

"I am not sure," it was obvious Isla was frustrated by this as well. "The best I can tell, it is the underlying relations that exist between you and those young men that is different."

"Would it try to get to them as well? To punish them?" Kim wasn't clear on it, but if the ghost was malevolent, then given her history she was likely to punish men... And Kim was susceptible to her more than others... She could sense the ghost.. See her even...

"I can't. I can't leave," word left her before she even formed a decision to try and protect her boys. She could see that Isla disagreed. "But I will keep the books." She squeezed Isla's hands back. "Thank you."

* * *

Milton sat straight backed in the library, having gone over the remaining books on biology, medicine and witchcraft. He could tell that the day was waning and that dusk would begin to fall. With it came the dread of night. He rubbed his eyes, wondering if his prescription had to be upgraded. He's been seeing things. Or not seeing them well. It was like some sort of exclusive nyctalopia. He seemed to have developed inability to see clearly in the twilight or at night. And this house, its older parts, were forever cast in twilight. Milton cleared his throat and continued to sit, staring straight ahead of him. The sleepwalking didn't explain what happened to him during the day. He seemed still, but to look closely one would notice the hunched set of his shoulders, the movement as he swallowed hard, repeatedly. The shaking hands he tried to steady in his lap.

He was terrified.

* * *

Jack woke abruptly, breathing hard. Where was he? He blinked twice as his eyesight focused.

The bedroom. He had been reading on his phone in his bed - in reality, he was avoiding Kim at the house - when sleep came on swiftly, unstoppable as a tidal wave. His head had drooped to rest on one arm and even as he drifted off he tried to fight it. Because he knew what he would dream of. Who he would dream of. And he did.

Jack sat up, his head spinning. His cheeks felt hot, his lips bruised as though he'd been biting them in his sleep. He couldn't remember the dream. Good, his mind must have suppressed it before waking in some attempt at self preservation. The dream was gone, but the sensation it left behind was-

"Oh..." Jack closed his eyes as a trembling surge of lust wracked his body. This was unusually strong.

"Fine, alright, make it stop," he muttered to himself, gripping the edge of the bed so hard that his knuckles turned white. He concentrated, furrowing his brow. Mind over body. Easy. Like pain, like anything, it was easy to think his way-

Jack gasped and kicked his chair back, staggering to his feet. Body was winning. This was more than unusual, this was unheard of.

The room seemed to distort around him, ceiling growing higher, corners slinking backwards into shadow. Everything looked warm and corporeal, shining a little at the edges. The velvet curtains on the window and the brocade bedclothes looked unbearably soft. Jack felt a craving for sensation. Splaying his fingers out in front of him he felt a compulsion to run his hands over everything, recording textures with his fingertips.

This wasn't right. Something was doing this to him.

Jack leaned on the table, head down, struggling to steady his breathing.

 _Find her_ , a voice was screaming in his ears. _Find her and..._

He groaned deeply. No. That would be worse than bad. He had to end this strange, chaotic arousal before it carried him straight to Kim's door.

Jack winced. The depressingly weak, humiliating act. He never did this. One hand on the edge of the bed, he roughly reached down with the other to find the hardness he was all too aware of. He unzipped and grasped it, the heat and thrust in his hand, the sensitivity made him draw a shaky, hoarse breath. This wouldn't take long.

The walls seemed to wail as he began to move his hand.

 _Not this, not this. Find her._

 _I'm cheating them_ , Jack thought vaguely, then swore as another wave of almost sickening pleasure took him.

Not long. Just... Get it over with, he thought desperately. Where the walls had loomed before they began to close in now. A resonant roar moved through the room that Jack was sure wasn't just the blood quickening in his own body. The post of the bed seemed to vibrate, the bedding rustled and he felt the movement of hot air emanating from everything like a sound wave.

Jack was gone. Almost oblivious to the disorder in the room, his only thought was of release. As his breathing quickened to short gasps and a shuddering warmth started in his groin, Jack opened his eyes and moaned. His disordered mind spun surreal as he registered the discarded phone jerk up on the bed and rise to hover in front of his face. His dilated pupils took in the phone's lock screen- the photo of the Wasabi Warriors – and that the image was trembling and the contours of faces crawled, moving and expanding, as his eyes locked in on the image of Kim. Her face moved and expanded - until it was the only thing he could see - her eyes large, dark, beautiful and haunted, and he swore he saw her lips move and-

Jack closed his eyes and turned his face away as the first spasm of pleasure rocked through him, and the image of Kim's face swam into his mind's view, just the phone hit him in the face.

He felt hot blood hit the side of his face and a shard of glass graze his cheekbone. The phone's case must have shattered, he thought distantly, as the rest of the things on his nightstand rattled louder and louder as Jack succumbed entirely to sensation, riding out four more helpless convulsions before collapsing forward to rest on one forearm, breathless.

The room stilled.

Jack raised his head, catching his breath. He could think now. Footsteps were approaching, and Jack darted to grab his dirty running shirt to clean the evidence of his weakness off his hand. He had just composed himself when Milton burst into the room.

"Jack! Are you alright? I heard this roaring noise and something sma-"

Milton stopped and carefully looked Jack up and down. Standing as straight as usual, Jack shot him a questioning look. On the left side of his face was a small cut, with blood beading on the surface, the normally lustrous hair soaked with sweat. His bed was a mess.

"Erm... I'll... come back later, shall I?"

Jack managed a curt smile. Milton backed slowly out of the room.

Once the door clicked behind him, Jack collapsed into his chair. He passed a hand over his bloodied face and stared at his red-stained fingers.

"What the hell is happening to me?" he murmured to himself.


	11. Chapter 11

On his way from their room - where he left Jack and to his own devices, because it was obvious his friend was ... overwhelmed - Milton paused in front of a wall of portraits. He never took too long walking this stretch of hallway. There was a bad feeling just here. Before, he'd thought it to be an amalgamation of the angle of the walls, the unsettling effect of the huge, darkened mirror at one end, picking up the small movements of one's own body and reflecting them back in strange relief. The quick whiteness of a hand protruding from a sleeve, disembodied. How pale one's face looked, how it pulled the eyes back into shadowed hollows. The mirror turned all into ghosts.

This time, passing the mirror, quickening his step, Milton paused, arrested by a face.

"Oh..."

Milton exhaled the word, slowed, stopped. He turned full to face her.

The portrait of a beautiful young girl.

It wasn't her beauty that stopped him. Yes, her face was perfect, but it was her expression that drew him in. She stood, her body at a slight angle, facing front. A slim girl, no more than a teenager Milton guessed. The solemn bow of her mouth was unrouged. Her dark hair was drawn back from the pale oval of her face, and she wore no wig. Her white dress, virginal, dipped low on her chest. And her eyes...

Dark as marsh-pools they stared straight from the canvas, knowing and direct. There was something plaintive in them too. Looking at paintings like this, Milton often felt the press of time, could feel the years in the expressions of the subjects. In exactly this way, he always thought, they looked at the artist. Centuries ago they held themselves just like this for the painter, and he froze them and varnished them in place.

It was not so with this one.

There was something alarmingly present about this girl's expression. She's not looking at the portraitist, Milton thought. _She's looking at me._

Milton moved his eyes away and lit upon another portrait just below. This one showed three girls, and looking closer Milton recognised the dark-eyed girl in the middle. Sisters, he thought. He leaned in, the tip of his nose almost touching the canvas.

"How many of you are still here?" he murmured.

"She's asking us to leave."

Milton almost jumped out of his skin at the voice behind him. He turned around.

Kim stood in front of the dark mirror at the end of the hallway.

Milton sighed, "Kim. Don't sneak up like that... That was almost the end of me."

"I'm sorry. It's the carpets." Kim moved closer, "Isla has asked me to leave. Says it's not safe for me."

"Why?"

Kim didn't answer. Instead she stared at the wall of portraits for a while, biting on her lower lip. He swore she mumbled something that sounded like _Emily._ When she finally faced him again, Milton saw her mouth turned down at the corners, lines of worry knotting her forehead.

"I have a terrible feeling that we won't leave this place," she said quietly. "Ever."

* * *

Milton returned to Jack's room to find the black belt looking listless and defeated. His hair was wet from the shower, but he hadn't bothered to clean up the mess on the bed. He toyed absently with the a piece of black cord.

"I'm worried about you," Milton said eventually.

Jack glanced sideways at him, "Don't. I'm fine."

"Thing is, I don't think you are." Milton sat down wearily on the edge of the bed. "I know how you deal when you think you failed, Jack. Not... very well."

"I haven't failed her!"

Milton bit back the response of 'I haven't said anything about her.' Jack dropped the black cord back onto the table and Milton thought it looked like one of his bracelets, only broken, and turned to face his friend.

He looked frightening.

 _You haven't slept properly in days_ , Milton thought, taking in Jack's pallor, the dark shadows beneath his eyes. _You haven't eaten properly since I mentioned the possibility of drugs. And you are avoiding Kim. Why is that?_

Milton's gaze dropped, "Your hands are shaking. It's ok to be- befuddled. And you don't always have to be the hero-"

Jack clenched his fists, "I am not befuddled. I am not so quick to fall to superstition. Yes, I have yet to find anything, but the operative here is yet. Yet. I will find out what is happening here, in this house, to all of us."

"Maybe we should consider-"

"Did you know that Angus is sniffing around Kim? Not just a friendly walkabout with a neighbor's guest either. He waited for her this morning and then was there to fish her out of the lake!"

Jack's face was even more frightening now. The usual self-assured and quick smile was gone. Instead he a harsh scowl on his face that shadowed his eyes into dark points and his jaw jutted from being clenched so hard. He was so angry...

"Jack... Angus is not-"

"Milton, I get that you are scared, but this is just- And she- and he was right there!"

He jumped form the bed and grabbed his sunglasses on the way out.

"Where you are going?"

"Out!"

"Jack!

Milton stood and walked to the window. A minute later he saw Jack's tall form stalking across the gravel and into the grounds. He hoped he planned on coming back.

For his part, Milton considered asking the Laird to cancel the gathering. He hoped they'd get tickets soon, but somehow felt Kim's earlier pessimism: he didn't think there'd be any tickets out...

* * *

A blessedly cool evening breeze swept over Jack as he left the House. Burying his hands deep in the pockets of his pants he walked blindly down the driveway and took a sharp right, the gravel changing to grass, he moved now with little sound. Pausing, he turned back to look at Turlann estate. The breeze moved the wet hair on his forehead and stung his eyes. Coldly he took it all in.

Jack was not a stranger to being moved by beauty. But he was not used to standing and appreciating it. He looked over the building before him, taking it different architectural detail, trying to see the small parts instead of the whole. The whole of the manor was... imposing... Strange... Oppressive...

He focused hard on the proper terms: portico, dormer windows in servants quarters, side-gabled roof, extension, Jacobethan, Tudor arches, high chimneys, characteristic balustrades... It helped that he read the brochure on this very place not long ago.

Even as the facts ran smoothly through his mind, he found himself focusing much, much harder than necessary, if only to drown out the only screaming thought based in no way on fact at all (and yet by far the loudest)-

It said, _the House is Looking at you._

It said: _Run._

Jack physically shook off the thought. Pulling at his hair harder, he continued deeper into the grounds. Head down, mind working over the maddeningly graphic dreams, he barely registered the small building that appeared in front of him, half hidden by trees.

The groundskeepers shed.

* * *

Kim curled up in an armchair in the vast drawing room where they had first met Lady McKrupnick and arranged Isla's books on the table beside her. She chose one and began to read.

It was an old book, perhaps not as old as the House, but close. The pages were delicate and musty, the print faded to sepia. Kim waded through the archaic language, some words stained into to oblivion. Old magic.

Spells to bring a lost love back. Spells to start fires.

Kim turned the pages, fascinated.

Impossible things, soil to gold, spells to birth a Chimera.

Kim came upon an illustration and paused. The lithograph showed a girl asleep in a four poster bed. Standing over her was a figure, its face was nothing, dark as a hood. Kim read: 'The dead who have not pafsed wifh to take a living body as their own.' An incantation followed, to be repeated three times before sleep to guard the mind from possession.

Kim shivered and turned the page. The next image was of two men, almost identical, standing side by side. Instead of a mouth, the figure on the left had only empty space. 'Mimicry', said the heading.

'The dead may take the form of the living. The doppelganger can not fpeak.'

The spell below, in Latin, promised to 'bring the foul creature to its true form'.

She was so absorbed in the book that when it dawned on Kim that she was being watched, she found that she couldn't recall how long the feeling had been there. Eyes in the room, somewhere, locked on her. Kim's skin prickled and her mouth went dry. Flashing into her brain, Kim saw the eyes of the girl in the portrait. She laid the book down carefully.

"Aimil?" she said.

* * *

The rusted hinges gave easily when Jack put his shoulder to the door. Pale light streamed into the shed. Jack waited for his eyes to adjust.

The shed was low ceilinged, a single room. One wall of tools over a workbench. A chair. A small portable television and a dartboard.

Jack raked the room impatiently for something of interest, and his eye caught a dusty shaft of light glinting off a bottle on the windowsill.

Ah. Not exactly what he had been looking for, but definitely something he could use.

Jack lifted the bottle and held it up to the light. Whiskey. Alcohol still was something forbidden. Not that he hadn't tried, but nothing this strong before. A few times he drank wine and beer, he didn't quite like the headaches ant tiredness afterwards. But he would have taken anything at that moment to quiet the incessant buzz of want and fear inside his head. Nothing had ever packed such a punch to his ego like these past days' events.

Jack unscrewed the lid and took a deep swallow straight from the bottle. He winced as the alcohol burned his throat, but it was soon replaced by a warming numbness in his chest and he raised the bottle to his lips again.

Just enough to dull this for a little while. Just enough to take the edge off the fear. Just enough to stop thinking of her like that...

* * *

After over an hour, during which he unsuccessfully argued with the Laird about cancellation, Milton accepted the fact that he would have to go after Jack. Cursing, he descended the main staircase with reluctant gait, then paused as he heard a voice.

The low murmur of conversation. It came from the drawing room. Straining to hear, Milton recognised one of the voices as Kim's. He walked over to the door and pushed it open. The voices stopped abruptly.

Kim looked up quickly as Milton entered, a look of guilt on her pale face. Milton recalled his young niece, at four, caught drawing on the wallpaper. The same look, when he walked in.

"Kim..."

She hadn't said anything. Watched him, as he stood awkwardly in the doorway.

"Who... Were you talking to someone?"

Kim shook her head slowly.

"Reading to myself," she explained, smiling wanly and holding up a book. "It's so awfully quiet here. It helps to break the silence."

"Where are Jerry and Rudy?"

"Still trying to find out if the monster is real," she shuddered. "I told them to avoid the pier, but I might have added to this enthusiasm with my unexpected morning swim." She shrugged at this and Milton felt her loneliness like it was a visible hall around her.

"Right," Milton hesitated. He thought to go and sit with her, but decided against it. Jack needed him more.

"I'm going to go outside. It's a bit stuffy in here."

Kim nodded and returned to her book. Milton backed out of the room.

He realised why he didn't want to sit with Kim with a wave of self disgust. Something in her eyes had frightened him. He wanted to get away from her.

* * *

Milton was sitting at the bottom of the stone steps to the main door watching the light draining from the sky when he heard a stirring in the forest. Footsteps. Milton stared into the treeline, immediately on guard.

"Jack?" he called hopefully.

He relaxed, relieved, as it was Jack who emerged from the forest and walked stiffly towards him. He stopped and stood beside Milton.

"Oh, hello," Milton, spooked by his interaction with Kim, tried hard not to let on how glad he was to see Jack.

"Mhgf..." said Jack. They both stayed quiet, watching the sky. When the last veins of light disappeared Milton got up to go back inside.

"Coming?"

Jack turned to face him, "Hmm?"

"I said, are you coming in?"

Jack blinked slowly, "Inside?"

Milton stared at him, catching the unmistakable scent of whiskey on his breath. He narrowed his eyes, "Jack... Are you drunk?"

"I have been drinking." Jack was fighting hard to retain his aloof demeanor through a fog of alcohol.

"My god. I haven't seen you drunk in the entire time I've known you," Milton looked half amused, half concerned. Was this how Jack chose to deal with stress? It was so hugely out of character for Jack to allow himself to lose control in this way. Milton wondered if he should call Rudy.

"Don't," even under the effects of the whiskey Jack could read him like a book. "No need to call Rudy. M'fine. 'Least... I will be."

Before Milton could respond, a look of panic crossed Jack's placid features, "Where's Kim? Is she alright?"

"Yes Jack. She's fine. She's in the drawing room reading."

"Right. Great. That's great. I'm glad she's fine. Milton-" Jack leaned in conspiratively. "I want to tell you something."

"Oh dear god," Milton was more than a little worried about what would come next.

"I've been feeling unusual."

"Of course you have, Jack. We all have."

"No. I mean, I've been having..." Jack looked disgusted, "...Feelings."

"And you're willing to discuss them? Well done. Whiskey, was it?"

Jack's eyes began to cloud over, "Yes. A... a lot. But Milton, listen. The dream. My dream, the first night. It was about... Kim."

Milton's eyebrows almost disappeared into his hairline, "About Kim? Our Kim? Black belt and a cheerleader?"

Jack nodded and regretted it. The movement made his head spin, "And it was... You know. That sort of dream. That people have."

Horny dreams... Jack had horny dreams about Kim. Which was... Milton's now resided somewhere around the back of his neck, "Are you sure?"

"Yes." Jack frowned. "I'm not enjoying this feeling. I'd like it to stop."

"Well, I mean," Milton grasped for the words to reassure his friend, "It's normal, right? I mean, we are all teens... And... We're all a bit shaken by what's been happening, and I suppose that being in such close quarters with somebody, feelings develop and all that, but I'm sure once we get back home it'll all-" He realised that he was babbling and stopped. Jack's eyes were entirely unfocused.

"No. Not th' Kim thing. The drunk thing. It was nice for a while but now it's gotten-"

It was nice for a while? Milton was redder than red. He so didn't want to know this about his friends...

Jack swallowed hard and stared pointedly into the middle distance, "I think I'm going to be sick."

He swayed and almost fell. Milton caught him around the waist as he leaned forward and retched.

"If you manage to actually throw up I'll be amazed," Milton said grimly, holding him steady. "I haven't seen you eat today at all."

Jack's body convulsed as he vomited pure whiskey onto Milton's shoes.

Milton looked down.

"Brilliant."

"There," said Jack, sounding much more like his usual self. "Are you amazed?"


	12. Chapter 12

A/N: I know that you expect a breakthrough for Kick, but consider how ashamed Jack is of his dreams. Milton tries to get them to talk though.

* * *

Kim had stood outside her bathroom door as Jack made himself sick again and again in an attempt to get the alcohol out of his system. Milton had all but thrown their inebriated friend into her arms before giving her a strange look and disappearing upstairs mumbling about further research and talking to Rudy. She had tried to ask Jack what had happened but he wouldn't meet her eye. He staggered into the bathroom and shut the door in her face, leaving her wringing her hands outside. Offers of help and water were curtly refused.

When Jack emerged, his eyes still slightly glazed, he had straightened his shirt formally and cleared his throat.

"Coffee," he said decidedly.

When they arrived at the kitchen - it was late enough that Isla was out and their hosts told them to feel free to use kitchen at their leisure - Kim fumbled putting the coffee to brew. Every step of the process was protracted as she searched for coffee grinds, filters, and cups. As if the house was taking pleasure in her embarrassment she had to look for things in several places, most of them ending up too high for her. Jack, still a little shaky, ended up pulling things from high shelves and she refused to think about their proximity.

Kim sat opposite to Jack and watched him subversively from behind her book. He sat back in the wooden kitchen chair, straight as if in principal's office. His legs were crossed, but his expression was as remote as the house felt.

The gurgling noise of the hot coffee trickling into the pot made Kim jump. She almost automatically lifted herself off the chair and then stopped. She wasn't the one who drank to excess. She sat back down and found Jack was staring at her evenly, expectantly.

 _He wants me to make it for him,_ she thought with a surge of annoyance.

But instead Jack dropped his eyes and passed a hand over his face. He gave her a tired smile.

"Coffee?"

This time it was a question. She nodded and he went about making their cups.

They sipped their drinks in silence. Kim realized that this was the first time Jack had ever made her coffee. She studied the young man sitting opposite her. It was a stark difference from the other night, when he was so assured of himself and his theory. Right now he looked drunk, lost, exhausted. She suddenly remembered that she hasn't seen him at meal times.

"You have to eat."

Jack looked up, some familiar sharpness returning to his eyes, but Kim was determined, "You have to eat, or you won't have the energy to keep sulking."

Jack waved a hand dismissively, "I do not sulk."

He watched as Kim stood and began to search through the kitchen cupboards. She found a loaf of bread and carried it to the table. This time she sat beside Jack.

He flinched.

"Let's start small."

Kim tore off the corner of the loaf with her fingers and offered it to him. Jack frowned.

"I am not a duck," he said firmly.

Kim laid the morsel on the table in front of Jack without a word, took out her phone and scrolled through her contacts. Finding what she was looking for she laid the phone carefully beside the piece of bread. Jack looked down at the screen. Brightly backlit, his mother's name and phone number blinked back at him.

Jack sighed. Begrudgingly, he picked up the bread and took a bite.

When he ate at least a third of the loaf and visibly relaxed in his chair she broke the silence, "Are you going to tell me what brought this on?"

Jack didn't flinch or recoil, but she could tell how he froze at first and then his expression hardened into an impassive mask. She almost cursed at this - he was retreating back into his shell unwilling to admit his vulnerability - when he spoke quietly.

"You really don't wanna know."

"Is it- a girl?" Kim figured that he got to see an apparition of Aimil the other night when he fainted in the hall. Perhaps there was a way for them to work this out together. She couldn't let this centuries-old ghost and curse hurt her friends if she could help it.

This time Jack did flinch and gave her a strange - dark and haunted - look that was also heated and focused. It remained her of her dream kiss with him. It must have been the residual embarrassment of that dream that made her avert her eyes and rock away from Jack.

He noticed and his expression was a confusing combination of disappointment and relief.

"It was nothing. Nothing _you_ can help with."

"But I can- I think. Isla, she's been telling me- And if it's a girl, then I think I know-"

"It wasn't that, Kim," he said forcefully and she took a good look at him. His eyes were dark and hard and there was something in them - foreboding and dangerous - as if waiting to rise at any moment. This dark look was focused on her and she felt like air pressure suddenly changed and her skin prickled as if expecting... something. Something she wasn't sure would be all that good.

He blinked and then his eyes were their normal warm brown and she felt like she could breathe, the pressure lifting and her lungs inflating.

He wasn't afraid like he was when he thought he saw a faceless girl. No... He was somehow different at that moment - wild and unstable and dark.

Maybe she couldn't help him with that after all.

She'd have to deal with Aimil herself.

* * *

Milton stood at the main door in his socks and looked up at the sky. A loaded heaviness had come into the air, the mercifully cool breeze replaced by a smothering stillness. Milton watched clouds roll across the moon and shuddered at the first distant, rumbling peal of thunder. A storm was coming in.

It was as if the moment Rudy told him of the storm that cancelled the flights, the air pressure changed and the landscape grew dark. Rudy and Jerry complained about their lake excursion being cur short, but after the story about Kim's near drowning they subsided a little. Kim was cagey about the details of her morning adventure and he suspected that their earlier conversation about chemical influences that might have affected them, played the part. She said that she lost the grip on her phone and in her scramble to reach it she over balanced and fell. Once she mentioned the role Angus played in saving her, Milton no longer wondered why Jack drank.

Milton's conversation with Rudy about happenings at the Turlann went about as he expected. Rudy was all for believing in ghosts and his solution was to run. At the same time, Rudy was strangely boastful of how he didn't get any visions or spooky encounters. He acted like it was somehow a manifestation of either his manliness or, conversely, the general wimpiness of the rest of them. Not that Rudy said in as many words. But between his exclamations ( _well I haven't seen anything; Jerry and I were at the lake at night and nothing happened to us!_ ) he slipped one or two doubting sentences ( _are you sure about it? Is Kim sure about it? really, a girl without face?_ ).

In the end, all Milton achieved was a promise that Rudy and Jerry would keep an eye on Kim.

And he'd try and keep an eye on Jack.

He sighed. The timing of this development between Jack and Kim couldn't have been worse. He was fairly convinced that the Turlann estate was haunting them and he suspected that it made Jack extra stubborn and Kim - feel lonely. He left them alone in hopes that they'd talk and maybe move past this issue, but he had a bad feeling about it. Jack was headstrong and he never acted on his crush before. Now, with the added complication of all these occurrences, Milton doubted Jack would admit to anything.

He sighed again.

The dark clouds seemed to boil in the moonlit sky. All the heat was building to this, holding its breath. Something would break tonight.

Milton turned to walk back inside. Behind him, the crickets chirping in the grass fell silent.

* * *

Kim stood too when Jack made to leave the kitchen.

"I'm going up too," she said. "I don't like being alone in this place."

Jack paused, his hand on the back of a chair. His eyes settled on her, scanning her face. She wasn't used to such close scrutiny, although it happened more and more in this house. So, she and waited patiently, thinking that she could see the play of emotions behind his eyes. At least they weren't as dark and shadowed as before. There was some color in his cheeks now, she noticed, and his body had stopped shaking. _He's noticing me noticing this,_ she realized. Jack inclined his head slightly, his eyes still fixed on her.

"Thank... you," he said finally. He turned to leave. Kim followed him, stunned. It was unexpected given the last time they parted at the lake. She expected the same hot-and-cold, caring-and-angry attitude he's been displaying lately. So she relished the fact he had thanked her, honestly, gratefully, and perhaps more importantly, he had thanked her with his voice sounding like that, his eyes meeting hers for once without freezing her to the bone.

She followed him out of the kitchen even more certain to do her best to protect her friends.

* * *

The storm came in fast that night. The stifling air sang with electricity. Lying in bed, Milton shuddered with every new peal of thunder, but even worse were the ringing silences in between. They made him think of the huge emptiness of the house pressing in on them, three frail humans trapped like rats in the East wing.

Jack stood at the window and watched as the clouds burst and hurled heavy drops of rain against the glass. The pressure in the air made his head ache. He pressed his fingers against his temples and frowned.

He thought that it was happening again, in the kitchen, that feeling, the possessive lust. Something had risen in his chest when he stood by her and passed her the cups. It had scared him. He had looked down at her and his heart quickened.

 _No. Not again._

It wasn't entirely though, was it? This was different. The sensations that came with the nightmares had been violent and almost unbearable. This feeling was... less alien. It started almost like when her first met her. Butterflies in the stomach, the heightened pulse rate, flood of warmth, impulse to reach out and touch Kim's hair, trace her parted lips with his thumb... She was so helpful, trying to understand what drove him to drink and he reveled in the sense of security that came over him. It was gentle and delicate, until she asked him about the dreams and babbled about her newfound knowledge courtesy of Isla. Yet another Scottish person Kim made friends with. The warm and delicate feeling twisted as the familiar possessiveness of the dreams descended on him. _Mine,_ it screamed into his mind, _she is mine._

He managed to wrestle it back under control, but his mind was unsettled again. He was on the brink of kissing her as if his crush from long ago wasn't gone at all. But he also was about to do far more than kiss - he wanted to bite her, mark her, so everyone knew she was his.

These feelings gave him a whiplash and made his head and heart hurt.

Was he crushing on her again? Was he lusting after her because of outside influence? Which part of this continuum of feelings for Kim was all him and which was something else?

Jack ground his knuckles into his eyes in frustration. Where did one stop and the other start? Was any of it real? How could he know?

"Enough."

He said it out loud, brought back to focus by the sound of his own voice. He didn't trust himself around her anymore. Whatever these feelings were, they didn't matter. Couldn't matter...

Could they?

Jack pinched the bridge of his nose hard and shook his head, turning back to his bed.

* * *

The warmth of the air surrounding her like a blanket, Kim had fallen asleep surprisingly easily. Since she was a child she had always loved lightning. Her fascination with the workings of the universe had started young, and even at eight (armed with her first book of science facts for children) she had pressed her nose against the window at the first sign of a storm. It felt to her as though the universe was knocking, making its presence known to all the tiny people. Almost every thought of childhood is apt to comfort. Kim lay, breathing deeply, covered by the thinnest sheet. It was too warm for much else. She slept peacefully. And then she began to dream.

/

The room again.

 _No._

That low room. She was alone this time. The cradle in the corner.

 _No._

Kim froze. A thin, soft voice was singing.

"London bridge is falling down, falling down, falling down..."

Kim struggled to turn and couldn't. The air was setting like concrete around her, thick and slow.

"Build it up with bricks and mortar, bricks and mortar, bricks and mortar, build it up with bricks and mortar, my fair lady..."

The cradle began to rock. Kim closed her eyes. The voice lost its softness, turned into a death rattle-

"Take the key and lock her up... Lock her up... Lock her up... Take the key and lock her up, my fair lady..."

Kim was drawn to the cradle, slow step by slow step, the steadily, grotesquely rocking thing pulling her into its orbit. With a sick shiver she realized that the voice was not coming from behind her, around her, anywhere, it was her that was singing, and as she raised trembling fingers to her lips she felt them move of their own accord, rasping out the words-

"Set a man to watch all night... Watch all night, watch all night... Set a man to watch all night-"

Kim's arm locked, reaching for the muslin covering the cradle-

"My... Fair... Lady."

Her own hand, out of her control. Lifting the rotting material. And in the cradle was-

/

Kim woke with a racking gasp. Panting, she tried to sit up, but her body was still locked in paralysis. She closed her eyes again, willing it away.

Something cold landed on her cheek like a tear. A drop of water. And now she could smell the stagnation of the lake, and she knew that there was someone in the room with her. She opened her eyes.

The girl standing by her bed looking down at her. Her mouth just a hole in her face. Grey skin, waxy and loose from being in the water so long. Pond slime in her hair. Her twisted face.

Kim opened her mouth to scream and the girl pitched forward onto her.

* * *

Lightning lit the grounds, making the lake and forest look for moments at a time like a tableau, concentrated, as though a model train might pass through them. Jack wiped the condensation from the window absently. The rain and the darkness made visibility poor, for a minute all he could see was his own face staring back at him.

The storm was practically on top of them.

Counting between bursts, Jack had gotten to eight on the last one. This time, on six, a flash of lightning so bright it bleached out the darkness like an overexposed photograph and suddenly he was jolted like he was struck by the lightning. Jack jumped and leaned forward so fast that his forehead almost hit the windowpane. He peered into the night because something called his attention. He looked and then...

There... Out in the night, in the rain, a small figure, almost luminous in a white short dress, was walking across the grounds.

"Kim..." Jack whispered, recognition flooding him like a wave. Just as quickly the visceral fear followed and he shouted. "KIM!"

The thunder drowned his voice.

Hammering the window with his fist, Jack realized she was making her way towards the lake.

* * *

The rain came down in sheets, blurring everything, but Kim's eyes were sightless anyway. Her face was slack as a sleepwalkers. Her thin cotton nightdress plastered to her skin, soaked. Another flash of lightening illuminated the jetty, the lake's surface pockmarked with singing rain.

Blind but steady, Kim climbed the steps, sodden wood under her bare feet. Carefully she walked down the center.

Another flash, the thunder immediate now.

Reaching the end of the jetty, Kim stood quietly for a minute. Then she bent forward, reaching out both arms as if in embrace-

Something grabbed her around the waist as she began to fall.

Jack tripped backwards with her, landing heavily on the wooden boards with her on top of him. He moved a little to look into her face as her empty eyes fluttered closed.

"Kim!"

He rolled to the side, laying her on the jetty beside him. Another flash lit her white face, her white t-shirt. She looked like a wax doll. Jack lifted her easily, his body curling slightly over hers. He stared out over the dark expanse of water.

"What brought you here?" he whispered to the comatose girl in his arms, then a movement caught his eye.

Jack stared in confusion and horror into the lake.

Below the surface, the still water shattered by rain, he saw a pale, drawn face sink out of view into the darkness of the deep water.

A/N: What do you think? Jack is realizing that there are two aspects of his feelings for Kim... But as he's affected by lust even in his waking hours, he reacts in a typical fashion.


	13. Chapter 13

A/N: I am sorry for a late posting and a short chapter. Holiday with the fam keep me busy.

* * *

Jack laid her on the bed, the pale doll with Kim 's face. Shaking, he ran his hands through his wet hair. Something was fluttering maddeningly in his chest like a caged thing, his breath coming fast and hard. Desperately, trembling, he half fell onto the bed, gathering the blankets around Kim 's cold limbs.

"Kim, Kim, please, you're freezing, I can't..."

Jack gathered her into his arms, swaddled in blankets, willing the warmth back into her. He had felt her steady pulse by the lake, checked her breathing, listened to her heart (his head bent to her chest in the blinding, metallic rain, his hands under her knees and neck to lift her-her rib cage felt so fragile under his cheek, bird-bones under the thin wet cotton of her t-shirt).

She was freezing, but alive.

Keep her warm. Body heat is the most effective, readily available source.

Jack 's sharp analytical ego cut neatly through his whirling confusion. He cradled Kim closer against his chest.

* * *

The thunder woke Milton, or the heat in the room, or some other sound that broke off just as he edged into consciousness. He wasn't sure.

3.01 a.m. Wincing at the brightness of the phone's screen, Milton cleared his throat. Rain was still pattering against the windows. It was a comforting sound, but as he lay still Milton fancied he could hear a voice underneath it, low, murmuring. This damn House put a sick spin on everything... He turned over to go back to sleep.

No, wait.

There was a voice.

Milton sat up straining his ears. It was coming from down the hallway, the direction of Kim's room. It was Jack's voice.

"Oh, god," Milton muttered, swinging his legs out of bed. "No, he didn't." He wasn't sure what he was afraid of: that Jack had acted on _those_ dreams about Kim, or some manifestation of the curse of the house made his friend seek Kim out and...

He pulled the top from his pajamas set (it was so hot even at night that he didn't bother with it before) and padded out into the hall. Kim's light was on, the door open. Milton could make out words now-

"Perhaps you can't hear me but in the movies and tv-shows they always say that people in comatose states respond to communication so... God, you're cold."

A floorboard creaked as he entered, and Milton started back as Jack whipped round to look at him, almost snarling. He was holding Kim like a wolf hunched over its prey. With his hair darkened and wild from the rain, the prominent cheekbones cast deep shadows on Jack's face and that made him look feral, unearthly. Kim's head lolled on her neck at a strange angle. One wrist, pale and slim as a lily stem, curled slackly onto the coverlet. Her lips were blue.

Jack didn't say a word. With the way he looked like he did now, it made Milton remember vividly how his normally charming and easy-going friend turned into a near sociopath while in this cursed house. Even so, right now he was acting like a psychopath. Fear gripped Milton again because he had to wonder if Jack had done something far more dangerous than just act on his dream suggestions.

"Jack," he whispered quietly as if afraid to spook a wild animal, which was true enough. "What have you done?"

"Nothing!" Jack spat, his eyes flashing. Then, visibly, his body slumped as though the strings had been cut. He began to shake again. Milton cautiously walked into the room as Jack let Kim's rag doll body tumble from his arms and onto the bed.

"Milton, you're the smartest of us all. You know about things like this... Look after Kim, she-" His voice wavered and he stopped. "I- I have to go."

Unsteadily, Jack left the room, his shoulder hitting the doorjamb hard on the way, spinning him slightly off course.

Milton knelt by the bed. He needed to check for vitals. That what was his reading would suggest, but it was always different when you knew the person, wasn't it? Kim, sweet, sassy but sweet girl. He brushed her wet hair off her forehead tenderly. Exposure, he reckoned, and shock. Had she been out in the rain? Jack knew...

Gently, Milton raised Kim up to lean against his shoulder as he began to peel off her wet shirt.

"Sorry, Kim," he muttered. "I promise I am not a perv and, really, it should be Jack doing it-" He paused and then reconsidered. Maybe Jack knew better than Milton realized. Undressing her, with his dreams fresh in his mind, wasn't a great idea. She felt so cold to him and he was filled with a new resolve. "Got to warm you up."

* * *

Jack tried to slow his breathing. One hand on the wall for balance, he staggered towards the stairs. The dark hallway pitched and swayed in his vision. He couldn't breathe. A peal of thunder shook the old windows in their frames. Gasping, Jack let himself fall to his knees, struggling to tear the loose collar of his sleep shirt even further away from his throat, gulping down hoarse lungfuls of air.

The face in the water. That pond weed smell. The person who wasn't there. At least the face as complete, unlike his hallway vision... He would have laughed at his own morbid observations, but the recent fear robbed him of any humor.

A concerned face swam vaguely in front of his eyes. Hands grabbed his quaking shoulders and pushed him back into a sitting position against the wall. Jack felt two fingers take his pulse.

"I can't breathe," he croaked. Rudy's voice seemed to come from miles away as he repeated his name.

"Jack. Jack. That's right, look at me. Jack. Alright, good."

His sensei's voice was an anchor. Jack made a superhuman effort to overcome the tightness in his chest.

"Alright, Jack? You're having a panic attack," Rudy had turned on his teacher persona that he so rarely displayed. It was so infrequent that Rudy acted the sensei he was supposed to be... Even in his present state Jack managed to frown at him.

"Don't be... Ridiculous... I've never had a... in... life."

"Just concentrate on breathing alright? Count to ten with me. One, two, nice and slow-"

"Why have you... and Kim ... she needs-"

"She's going to be fine Jack. Milton is with her. He called me down to find you. Kim is suffering from shock. You don't need to worry about Kim for now, concentrate on yourself. Three.. Four, come on-"

"There's no need to... talk to me... like I'm... a child."

Jack closed his eyes and pressed both palms flat against the floor, letting its steadiness calm him. When Rudy reached ten, Jack was breathing almost evenly. It was a minute or two before he spoke.

"I saw a man under the lake," he blurted and Rudy only hummed in acknowledgement but hasn't said anything.

Jack rubbed his eyes fiercely, "I'm going mad, Rudy. I'm losing my... My mind."

Rudy sat back on his heels. The two men stayed silent, deep in thought. Rudy hesitated twice before speaking.

"Milton told me. It's hard to believe, I know. And you think that I'm always flighty and easy to sway, but- This, what you and Kim and Milton have experienced... what we got to see when we first arrived... what the legends speak of, isn't it time to accept that it has no real world explanation? That the answer is beyond this realm? That our minds maybe not enough to deal with it? This- this thing has gone beyond being just a spooky story or a prank, Jack. It tried to take Kim twice already."

Jack's previous panic didn't return back as he feared it would. Because what Rudy was saying was what he himself was thinking all this time.

The ghost was real... The curse was real... It had a hold over Kim and him... It wanted something. Or someone. And somehow it found it's victim.

 _Kim._

But he wasn't panicking.

The warm and delicate feeling that was his _real_ reaction to Kim solidified in the moments he spent afraid that he lost her. Now it was strong and it thrummed through his veins and his heart. It was sure it wanted Kim alive and in his life.

The curse would have to work harder at trying to take her from him.

* * *

Milton managed to get Kim warm enough that he let go of the body hug he held her in. It must have been the dire situation that he barely registered her naked state beyond taking measure of her temperature. He texted Rudy with the message urging him to come. It took a while for their sensei to answer, but once he called Milton back and got the details, he hung up quickly promising to come at once. Milton disentangled himself from Kim and made sure she was fully covered by blankets, before pulling his own clothes on.

It was just as well, because Rudy barged in, half dressed and agitated. He checked on Kim and Milton trusted his teacher to recognize a serious medical condition because someone at the dojo had to have taken first aid classes before the licence was issued.

"And she just jumped into the lake? In this weather?" Rudy mumbled as he counted Kim's pulse. "...Still low..."

"I don't know if she did. I woke up because I heard Jack talking to her-" More like pleading, his mind supplied. "He must have seen her or something. He said that she was cold and then ran out."

"Ran out?" Rudy's voice was disbelieving and Miton tried to articulate the sheer wildness that was Jack's face and the fear that was in his eyes.

"It- It wasn't like that! I think- No, I'm sure, he's terrified. Of what he saw and, most importantly, he was terrified of what happened to Kim..." Milton struggled whether to tell their sensei about Jack and his recent dreams of Kim, but he didn't have to make that choice.

"That I believe, my boy. He always had a soft spot for her. I think it only got worse since all this otherworldly stuff began."

"Well, we all have a soft spot for her-" Milton began, trying - without saying so - to communicate to Rudy the recent change in Jack's attitude.

"Not like him. Not like him. He might have tried to deny it, but it's always been there. I bet he is terrified and probably blames himself."

"He might. Kim tried to tell us about her dreams and the girl ghost she saw, but we dismissed her. And now-"

"And now she's nearly catatonic and Jack is panicking," Rudy finished. "I'll go look for him. She'll be fine. Keep her warm and let her sleep off her shock. But if she is having a nightmare, please, wake her up."

Rudy stepped out and Milton pulled a chair close to the bed, assuming his role as a sentinel over sleeping girl.

"Don't do anything like that again, Kim. I- I'll be very disappointed if you did. And... And Jack, he's not going to tell you outright, because you are I know that boy has issues expressing himself, but I know, I KNOW, he cares about you so much. So, please, no more trips to the lake. Not unless someone with you. I'll even settle for Angus, just..."

* * *

Jack calmed down enough that he could face Kim again. He walked over to her bedroom and found Milton and Jerry there. She was still asleep. Milton was immersed in some book, looking at it in morbid fascination. Jerry was sprawled all over the chair with video game on and provided a loud commentary on his actions. Jack was confused for a second - it was obvious that Milton wasn't paying attention - until he realized that Jerry was talking to Kim, inviting her to admire his moves in the game. His heart warmed over at the artless way Jerry kept on talking to the sleeping girl. Jerry was doing what Jack himself tried to do before the panic attack.

He walked slowly and sat near Milton, who spared him one quick glance and then spoke quietly.

"Feeling better?" At Jack's silent nod he went on, "Listen, Jack. I... You're going to think - well, I mean it doesn't really matter what even you think at this point. We're all going kind of mad-"

Milton sighed and looked up at the ceiling, "I have a theory. Supernatural one." He paused and gave Jack quelling glance, "Hear me on this. I don't think we're going to figure what is happening to us, I think. Not until we understand how the girl has died. Why did she die? And where her body ended up."

Jack said nothing.

"Just imagine for a second that this is really happening. That this house really is haunted."

Milton paused, expecting a sneer of derision from the black belt. But Jack stayed quiet, gazing at him steadily.

"And imagine that these 'ghosts' are actually... Steering us towards and sometimes warding us away from... Clues."

Milton picked his words carefully. A spark had already began to creep into the depths of Jack 's eyes.

"In a way, it's a sort of cold case. But with, em... Dimensional variants."

The shadow of a smile hovered at the corner of Jack 's mouth, "And you hate mysteries, right?"

"I like having answers. And right now, having answers means protecting Kim. So, are you with me? Let's solve this supernatural mystery."

Milton stretched out his hand to Jack, palm up. Jack lifted his own, feeling enormous gratitude for his steadfast friend.

Jerry joined them by then and added his own hand to a group handshake.

"Wasabi!" they intoned together.


	14. Chapter 14

A/N: thank you for your comments.

* * *

Kim awoke with a splitting headache - and naked - next to someone.

"Oh my god..." she murmured. She lifted the blanket tentatively. Yes, definitely naked.

"Ah, Kim. You're awake."

She turned her head slowly to find Jack was lying beside her, fully dressed (thank god!), his hands behind his head. He flashed her a teasing smile that sent her stomach roiling with butterflies.

"What is going on here?" Kim asked, dreading the answer. Milton, sounding on her left, groaned in his sleep and straightened himself from a slouched position in the chair. Instinctively, Kim pulled the blankets up to her chin.

"You were sleepwalking in the rain. If I hadn't caught you you'd be languishing at the bottom of the lake by now," came Jack's voice.

"And why are you in bed with me?" _While I am naked,_ she added mentally and felt herself blush.

"Oh, you're welcome. I only saved your life," Jack sat up and swung his legs off the bed. "Body heat, since you ask. You were freezing. It was Milton who undressed you, by the way. Not me. You may thank him for that one."

Milton yawned and rubbed his eyes, "Necessary procedure," he said sleepily. "I didn't see anything." He grinned at her, "Well, not much. Be glad it wasn't Jerry. Feeling better?"

Kim nodded, then winced as pain thrummed in her temples.

Milton sat up and stretched, "We'll let you get your bearings. Jack, come on."

Jack looked up from where he was checking his phone, which looked like it had a cracked and chipped screen.

"Right. We need to talk to the Laird. If he insists that the gathering and games go on as planned, he'd have to excuse us from participating. I believe that Lady Fiona and your friend Isla would be of help."

With that Jack slunk out of the room and Milton made to follow him. She stared at their retreating backs in confusion.

"Sorry about him. You gave him a scare. He's ... dealing with it. I'll bring you some Tylenol."

Kim smiled gratefully, "I'm glad you're here." She said. "I mean, I'm not glad we're here, at all. But I'm glad that since I am, I'm have my friends."

Milton lingered for a minute at the door and said quietly, "I think you're awfully brave."

* * *

When Kim came down to the main parlor she found the Wasabi Gang together. Jack was sitting at the table drinking a cup of tea and Milton was reading. Jerry was up and when she walked in he playfully bumped her shoulder.

"Sleeping Beauty wakes!" Jerry told her and winked in an exaggerated fashion. "How was your sleep? I hear you had a new teddy bear..."

Leave it to Jerry to make things slightly obnoxious, but he seemed genuinely happy to see her and she let his saucy remark slip with just a mild eye roll, "Thank you for asking, although I'm not sure Jack would agree to being compared to a teddy bear."

Jack, who looked at her when Jerry began speaking, shrugged, "Well, it's either that or being called a full sized body pillow. How's your headache?"

"Better," she answered truthfully, still processing the fact that the entire gang was here and Jack wasn't avoiding her. "So, did the Laird agree? Do we have to go to the games?"

Rudy sighed melodramatically, "That man is so stubborn, but Lady Fiona convinced him that maybe your and Jack's presence wasn't required after all. Us and Milton are not so lucky, so... Church door flip - here we come. At least you would not be alone as Jack is staying with you."

At this point Jack gave their sensei a withering glare and Jerry snickered.

"Jack and I are excused?" she wanted to confirm, feeling apprehensive and nervous to spend time alone with Jack. She was fully resigned to the fact that the ghost of Aimil was drawn to her like a moth to a flame, but she had her suspicions that it didn't like Jack all that much.

Milton let go of the book he was reading and Kim realized that it was one of the volumes that Isla lent her, "Lady Fiona believed us about your particular sensitivity to the forces of this house. She, like Isla, wanted you to leave or at least to be away from the house. And gathering will be by the lake so, given how you are susceptible near the lake, it makes more sense for you to be indoors. But to rid you of the influence you'd have to be imuch farther away-"

Here Rudy picked up the thread, "But that would be cowardly and we don't know if somehow the curse would get attached to you."

"Curse- Forces of this house-" she repeated numbly. "You believe me now?"

"Well, Isla confirmed that you nearly drowned the first time when Angus caught you and yesterday's events convinced even Jack that something weird is going on here-" Milton stood up and brought her a cup of tea, which looked greener than usual, "There, this is one of the brews that Isla says would help you with the influences of the house. It should help until we all are back from the gathering. She left to get ready for her competition."

She took the cup carefully and realized that it was the same drink that Jack was drinking. They shared a glance over the rims of their cups until he nodded silently and Kim willed her butterflies to quiet down already. She gulped the hot liquid, nearly burning her tongue, and sat down near the fireplace.

Rudy, Jerry and Milton walked out of the parlor together.

"Do try to stay alive while I'm gone," Milton said in parting and Kim didn't even think he was being overly dramatic.

* * *

The sound of their footsteps faded into the distance, and the weight of silence settled back over the house. Jack was suddenly hyper aware of the girl sitting opposite him. With others gone the dynamic felt a little too intense. While he resolved that he liked her on his own volition, he wondered if he'd be strong enough to fight off the strange dark desires that came with being in Turlann.

Kim studied Jack's face from beneath lowered eyelashes. He had saved her life. She delved into her mind for a memory of the event. Nothing surfaced but the vague recollection of how it felt when he lifted her, and his chest heaving against her body as he ran with her back to the house.

"Do stop staring Kim," Jack drawled, looking up from his battered phone.

Kim jumped, "I want to thank you."

"Oh," Jack looked up. "Quite alright."

"I owe you my life."

Jack studied her piercingly, "Another cup of this witch's brew would do."

"It doesn't seem sufficient."

"And all the coffee cake that's left, then. I suppose I can settle for that."

Kim considered this.

"Sorry for not believing you at first," Jack added.

Kim smiled, "That seems fair."

* * *

The relief of being away from the House and amongst other people and the exuberant crowd lifted Milton's spirits immensely. He caught himself walking the large opening where McCrarys and McKrupnicks gathered with a manic grin. Similarly, Rudy and Jerry seemed swept in the mood.

In the bustle of the gathering, he realised that being in that House felt like existing in some strange, slow bubble of time. They had been living exhaustingly beneath the cloak of the Houses' past. Milton thought about Jack and Kim back at Turlann, and if he might return to find them frozen in place, cobweb strewn statues, as though centuries had passed.

He banished the thought, and stood smiling at the baked goods displayed on one of the market stalls.

Nah, he thought, they should be fine. Hopefully, they were talking. Rudy was a little heavy-handed in leaving them alone and Jack was fully aware of what Rudy was doing, but he didn't fight them too much. That was something at least. If only Jack actually confessed to Kim...

* * *

Jack's plan to do rounds of the house was mostly an excuse to get away from Kim and the confusing mix of emotions she raised in him. He wanted to believe that Isla's potion would keep the worst of the effects off, but this was a new territory for everyone... He was nettled when Kim insisted on coming along. He stalked ahead of her, giving unusually monosyllabic answers to her friendly chatter.

Despite himself, Jack avoided the windowless hallway on the fourth floor for as long as he possibly could. The landing where he had seen the girl. It took almost an hour to explore the rest of the main house, and soon the hallway was the only stone left unturned. Jack slowed as they approached it, inwardly chiding himself for the growing sensation of anxiety in his stomach.

This hallway was lit only by dim yellowed light bulbs, the kind that buzzed and whined with the effort of staying alight. Even moths weren't drawn to them. The natural light seeping in from the stairway did little to lift the atmosphere.

"Oh," Kim looked around. "This is where I found you, isn't it? When you-"

"Yes," Jack stilled her with a look. Kim decided it was best to stop talking. They walked in silence.

The hallway was colder than the rest of the house with no sunlight to warm it. Their footsteps were swallowed up by the thick carpet.

They were halfway down the hallway when a sound came from behind them. A low moan, like a long held breath being released.

Jack whirled around and almost crashed into Kim . She put out her hands to steady him, grabbing the lapels of his jacket. For a moment they stood in silence before Jack exhaled sharply and closed his eyes, both reveling and feeling guilty over pleasant sensation her hands on his body brought him.

"Fuck," he spat.

Jack opened his eyes again to see Kim 's stunned expression, "What? What is it?" He disengaged from her grasp and looked back down the dark hallway, "What did you see?"

Kim let out a nervous giggle and Jack turned back around to see her smiling, "Nothing. I didn't see anything."

Jack ran his hands through his hair, "Why did you look so shocked?"

"It's just that... I don't think I've ever heard you swear before in front of me."

Jack looked at her quizzically, "Well, yeah, I have some manners. And the situation called for it. Let's go back to our wing, now. There's nobody here."

* * *

Resigned to the fact that Kim was unlikely to leave him alone, Jack sat with her in the drawing-room, watching the clock count the slow minutes til others came back. Being alone with Kim was almost too much. Jack willed himself to concentrate on the book he was reading, but the words refused to keep their place.

In his peripheral vision he could see her... She had draped herself into the armchair, one foot braced against the wing, the other leg dangling over the armrest. Her blue dress rode up in her lap exposing the creamy, glowing skin of her thighs. She was absorbed in that stupid spellbook, toying with her hair in between turning the pages. At one point she had kicked off her ballet pumps and stretched, arching her toes. Jack had almost bit through his tongue.

Yes, these things (how perfect the blue dress suited her, how every inch of her skin shone, how she would curl skeins of her disheveled hair between her fingers) gave Jack a pleasurable fluttering sensation in his chest, but the fear that it would turn into to the nightmare-lust was ever present.

If only she would stop being so...

"Are you alright?" she was looking at him. "You're awfully fidgety."

Jack managed to meet her eye. "Perfect," he answered her, and realised only after he'd spoken that he had finished his own thought at the same time.

And there it was...

The pleasant feeling began to verge on darkness.

He shouldn't have looked at her face. This must be the way this curse insinuated itself. His emotions for Kim. Whatever was doing this would exploit it from inside his mind until he...

Jack let the book fall and dropped his head into his hands.

 _Concentrate,_ he willed himself. _It's only sensation. You can control it. Why isn't this stupid tea helping?_

Kim jumped from her chair and fell to her knees beside Jack 's chair, "Are you alright? Can I get you some water?"

She shrunk away as Jack turned on her with darkened eyes. "I need to find out what is doing this to me," he growled.

"Jack, please calm down."

Kim placed a hand on his arm and Jack flinched, breathing hard, "Don't touch me. It makes it worse."

 _Soft hands, pale skin, huge eyes... So beautiful and perfect... Nnnno..._

"Makes what worse?" Kim took one of his hands and looked at him imploringly. "Please Jack. I can help."

"Yes. Yes, you most certainly can," Jack's voice was cold and word sounded like he ground them out. Kim noticed that his shoulders were shaking as he tried to hold himself still. "You're the only one who could possibly help because the problem... is you."

Kim frowned.

Jack made a sudden urgent movement towards her and just as abruptly stopped himself, "Fuck!"

For the second time ever, Kim heard him swear. His voice was so deep that she could feel it in her bones.

Then he was up, stalking away from her across the expanse of drawing-room that seemed to grow more vast with each step he took away from her. He slammed the door and Kim was alone.

* * *

Kim found Jack in the windowless hallway.

"Why here?" she called as she approached him. "Are you daring yourself?"

Jack studied one of the portraits hanging on the panelling and didn't answer. It had taken him ten minutes to overcome that feeling, and now the cause of it had followed him.

"Can't you gather when somebody might prefer to be left alone?" he sneered as Kim caught up with him.

"What did you mean?" Kim demanded. "How might I be 'the problem' to you?"

Jack scowled and didn't answer.

"May I remind you I was invited here, just like you." Kim was growing angrier by the second, "And almost immediately upon arrival, the spooky stuff started happening. To me! Out of all of us this House has been a danger to me the most. I should have left after the first night but I didn't, because you lot didn't believe me, thought I was hysterical and like an idiot I wanted to prove you wrong. Only it kept happening!"

Jack faced her now. He had never seen Kim this angry before. Or this beautiful.

"Yes, you did save my life last night and thank you, again, for that, but-"

"I'm sorry."

Kim stopped mid-rant.

"What?"

Jack 's eyes were downcast. He looked genuinely apologetic, "I am sorry that my not believing you immediately resulted in your life being in danger. If I had known I never would have agreed to come here." Jack raised his eyes, "I just thought it would be a great adventure and a nice break from our normal lives."

He considered this for a moment, then admitted, quietly- "I don't think I can imagine my own life without you in it and-"

Kim kissed him.

A quick, full-lipped kiss, then she stepped back and searched his face for a reaction.

Jack's eyes widened, but he didn't move.

Kim looked away, with a quick shrug, "Sorry... I know you don't... I mean you're not-"

Compulsively, Jack reached out to cup her face, tracing her soft skin with his thumb. He closed his eyes. It was an effort for him to speak, "Kim..."

His voice had dropped lower than usual. Lost for words, Jack slid his fingers into her hair. He shook his head-for dissent or clarity, Kim wasn't sure. Then, with a shuddering breath he pulled her to him. Their lips were hairbreadth away.

Kim could feel the restless, tight energy of Jack's body as he held her. She wondered if he knew what to do next. She was enlightened a moment later, as Jack moved one hand to her waist and with the other still tangled in her hair, he bowed his head almost in reverence and grazed her lips with his. Then a bite, gentle, his teeth nipping her lower lip, bringing hot blood to her cheeks and making her press closer against him.

Jack groaned and took her mouth. Kissing her hard, open mouthed, with more passion than Kim would have thought he had in him, he backed her into the wall and pinned her there like a butterfly, both hands at her hips now.

Control. He was taking control and her stomach swooped low.

Kim tipped her head back as Jack traced her jaw and throat with his lips.

His kisses were hungry, chaotic. But he was clear in his movements - his hands on her body giving subtle physical signals, steering her.

Jack's mind was, in fact, utterly roiled. Kim's kiss had created a vacuum, and all normal thought was being dragged into it, sparing only words like 'want', 'warm' and 'please'. He hated it almost as much as he didn't.

Distractions. Kim, writhing and responsive under his hands, was perhaps the most distracting thing Jack could remember experiencing in a long time.

The change of context threw him. This was Kim, the sassy friend of a girl he had known for years. Yet suddenly - first as a dream, then a fantasy, and now in the real warm flesh, she was something else entirely. And Jack wanted to-

His eyes snapped open.

That other feeling was creeping in again. The sadistic, scheming want to posses, to take her and... _Hurt her._

Jack pulled back. Kim saw panic in his eyes before they darkened.

"Jack? What's wrong?"

Jack gasped and pressed his hands to the wall. He shouldn't have broken, shouldn't have kissed her. Her mouth had taken his foresight.

Far down the hallway, the first light blinked out. Then another.

Jack could feel the walls begin to shake beneath his hands. Kim's voice came from eons away.

"You're scaring me."

Jack looked down and it wasn't Kim anymore. A young girl with long dark hair looked up at him.

"You won't stop," she said. Her voice was like a nightmare. "You are going to hurt her like you hurt me."

"I didn't-" Jack was losing himself. "It isn't me..." he whispered.

More lights failed. The darkness was coming closer. The girl sang softly.

"Send a man to watch all night, watch all night, watch all night..."

Her face began to sag like a wet photograph. Her eyes sank back into her skull. Jack tried to move but his hands were rooted to the wall. The portraits began to rattle on their hooks.

"I won't hurt you," Jack muttered to the skeletal girl, her hanging jaw creaking as she sang. The sound of her voice rotted as the skin on her face turned grey. Jack forced himself to look.

"What am I seeing?" he said through gritted teeth, holding on to the rational part of himself. "How is it possible? You're here, aren't you?"

Lightbulbs hissed and failed. The darkness was almost upon them.

"Whatever you are," Jack snarled, "You do not have the power to make me hurt her."

The corpse smell of the girl made him retch. She was little more than bones now, the nursery song was a rusted nail dragged along a coffin-lid. And something dawned on Jack.

"No... Stupid. Stupid! Of course. You're not trying to make me hurt her. Something else is. You- you are trying to ward me off."

The snap and fizz of the last bulb plunged them into darkness.

Kim's scream wrenched Jack back to reality. There was a resounding crash in the pitch black and Jack's hands were abruptly freed. He reeled back and fumbled in the pocket of his jeans for his phone.

In the dim light of the screen Kim's terrified face blinked up at him.

"What's wrong with you?" she asked, her voice quavering. Jack lifted one finger to his lips. He swept the light of the phone around the hallway.

Every portrait had been ripped from its hangings and flung onto the floor. The ringing quiet after the crash was oppressive.

Jack brought the light back to Kim, but she was looking past him down the hallway. He turned the screen to follow her gaze.

Thirty feet away, his back to them, stood the dark figure of a man.

"Well, this is new," Jack murmured.

Flickering and distorting as it moved, the figure turned to face them.

"Alright," Jack grabbed Kim 's hand. "Now we run."

Stumbling in the dark, they bolted.

A/N: I hope the kiss didn't disappoint.


	15. Chapter 15

A/N: Thank you again for reading and reviewing. So glad you like this story. To answer one comment: I update usually on Mondays and Thursdays.

* * *

As the gathering drew to a close of its first day, Milton could honestly say that it was worth to come to Scotland for this. It was rowdy and lovely. Music, food, games - everything just coalesced into this feeling of happiness and belonging that he almost forgot of the malevolent presence in Turlann. The Laird was almost jovial and obviously proud and Lady Fiona was liveliest he'd ever seen her.

Isla came in third in the sheaf tossing competition and Jerry made them proud by eating any and all that was offered to them. He even took part in the haggis eating contest, which endeared him to all present. Rudy was interested in the heavy sports contest, like hammer throw and stone put. Milton understood now why Angus was such a favorite. The man was strong and wide and from what Milton guessed, most of those heavy sports required significant strength. Angus was also friendly and almost sweet and it was clear why Kim found herself befriending him.

He and Jerry and Rudy were heading back to Turlann, loudly exchanging their impressions of the day. Isla joined them, but he could see that she was steeling herself to go inside the house.

"Do you think they are fine?" he asked quietly.

"Kim, she is sweet. And I think the house knows that. And Jack is strong, if he lets himself to care."

"This sounded like a wish, not the reality."

"We are dealing with paranormal. Wish and hope are just as important as the fact."

"Have you tried to- expel the ghost?"

"I did, as did my mother before me. Near as I can tell, something binds the girl to this place, more so than simple haunting. Like there's an anchor, no, a purpose for her presence. I don't know how to explain, but until that is resolved, she won't rest."

As they drew nearer to Turlann, Milton was aware of the darkening of the skies.

It wasn't so much that the skies changed, Milton realized. They were still cloudless. The sun beat down, catching glittering flecks of pollen in the air. It was more indefinite than that, a subtle change in the quality of light. Around Turlann, the sun took on a sepia tint, as though all was being seen through an old lens. The House was sinking deeper into itself, taking the grounds with it, the light with it, and anybody in the place too. The past was swallowing it all.

Isla was all but shivering at this point and he wondered if it was always like this for her.

"Honey," he muttered ruefully to himself, "I'm home."

Isla suddenly stopped and inclined her head as if listening or seeing something unseen and silent.

"Something happened," she intoned and they all straightened.

* * *

His eyes adjusting to the gloomy hallway, Milton noticed the door to the drawing room hanging ajar. Somehow they all hastened their steps and practically barged into the room.

Jack and Kim were sitting as far away from each other as possible in the vast room. Jack had dragged an armchair into the corner furthest from the window and sat facing the wall, deep in thought. His fingers were clutching the armrests in white-knuckled grip. Kim had taken the slightly less extreme approach of turning the fireside armchair around so that its back faced into the room, hiding her almost entirely from view. They both looked up as the group entered.

"Isla!" Kim clambered out of the armchair, exuding palpable relief.

Jack stood abruptly. They both made towards the group before making eye contact with each other and looking away. Kim dithered, then turned back and busied herself in turning the armchair back around.

"Did you... Did something happen? I know that something did," Isla said as she looked carefully between the two black belts.

Jack turned to Isla and then at the rest of the group. "Don't go to the hallway on the fourth floor," he said darkly. "Just... don't."

"Why?"

"Apparently, its a hot spot, a main thoroughfare, for all things ghostly," Kim was sarcastic, but she also blushed and avoided looking at Jack.

 _This is excruciating_ , Milton thought unhappily. He hoped that they had-

And then he saw a small movement from Jack, his arm extending towards Kim even though he couldn't possibly touch her from that far away.

And somehow she sensed it because she looked at Jack. It was like seeing their fingers brush without actually touching. There was a high octane moment of delicate energy. The jolt of electricity that passed between their eyes as they looked for the millisecond before they turned away was almost visible, flashing in the air between them.

Jack cleared his throat.

"Yeah, that," he muttered and stepped away even further from where Kim stood.

 _Of course_ , Milton thought, fighting the urge to grin. _Those dreams he's been having. He doesn't know how to deal with them._

Milton felt pleasingly wise. He looked at Kim, who was biting her lip and staring down at her shoes in silence.

"Don't worry," Milton reassured her quietly. "You know how he gets. It's not you."

"Of course," Kim said carefully. "I know. It's not me, but still, he should stay away from me nonetheless."

But it was undermined by a whole body shiver from her and almost audible groan of pain from Jack.

Isla, who just kept studying the two of them, suddenly gasped and took a tiny step away from Kim.

"You- She came to you! No, no, no... She was _in_ you. She possessed you?!"

Kim's face crumbled and she all but collapsed into the chair, "Yes, although I don't remember it when she's here. It feels like a very distant dream that quickly fades."

"Then how do you know that you were possessed?" Rudy asked somewhat befuddled.

"Because I talked to her. The girl ghost. I talked to her," Jack's voice was gravelly and he looked at them with grim expression. "And she is crazy, I think, but she also wants to protect Kim."

"Protect from what?" Rudy asked and looked around as if trying to spot a predator.

"From herself-" Isla exhaled.

"From a man-" Jack's voice was a deepest it has ever been.

"From h-her father-" stuttered Kim.

Everyone stared at her in varying degrees of disbelief.

"It was her father, who hurt her. Killed her, maybe, or she did it herself because of him. He- He was cruel and he f-forced himself on her and she- she became pregnant and then she disappeared. Supposedly, her father wanted to do the same with her younger sister and she, Aimil, came back and then... He drowned. She- I think she is confused a lot. She wants me to be safe, but she also thinks that death is better than ignominy."

She stopped and all of them took in her words.

Kim was shivering nonstop now and Milton could see how Jack's entire body reacted to her distress - eyes roaming over her shaking form, frown of frustration on his face, hands balled in useless fists - yet he stayed away.

Isla began muttering quickly and grabbed one of the books, turning pages rapidly, "How do you know? She told you? I thought you couldn't remember very well when she takes over you?"

"I already knew the story as you told me and today she spoke to Jack. She told him that he would hurt me, like her father hurt her. And then-"

"And then we saw _him._ He was in the hallway," Jack finished.

Isla gasped again.

"Two? There are two of them in this house?" She sat down and pressed fingers to her temples, "That's why we could never exorcise Aimil from here. He is here too and she wont' rest until he's gone."

"So, what now? Kim wont' be safe here," Jerry was restlessly pacing and quickly crossed himself, even kissing a small crucifix that hung from his neck.

"We need to get rid of them both," Isla was determined now, having settled on a particular page. "We know that he had drowned in the lake, but we don't know what happened to Aimil. Where her body is-"

"It has to be here, at Turlann. She's obviously bound to this place," Milton spoke catching onto Isla's thinking.

"So, we look at possible locations-"

"Fourth floor hallway?" Kim offered hesitantly. "That's where Jack met here twice already."

"Or the creepy cellar," Milton countered, remembering his own brush with the otherworldly.

"Stables," Jack added. "When Kim had her first nightmare, she said 'he took her to stables' over and over again."

"Right," Rudy responded. "We need to check those parts of the house. Maybe some books on the history of the renovations here. When did this all happen? We should try and focus on that time frame."

"I'll check the library," Milton offered.

"And I'll talk to the Laird and the Lady," Rudy nodded.

"I can check with the villagers. Maybe there are some old tales," came from Isla.

* * *

Jack joined Milton at the library, having left Kim in the company of Jerry. He was at once afraid to leave her alone and afraid to be left alone with her. There was no more doubt in his mind that being with Kim and his feelings for her were the trigger and he wanted to avoid the danger of another episode.

"What about those… ahm… dreams?" Milton asked suddenly and Jack jumped at that.

"It's fine. I hadn't had any more."

"Oh... It's just it looked like you were trying to stay as far away from Kim as you could. I thought you were done avoiding her."

"Actually," Jack said just as Milton located the section of the library on the house history, "There was a thing. Earlier, in the hallway. We kissed."

Jack looked away quickly as Milton turned back around as though pivoting from a central axis, his jaw practically on the carpet.

"You… what?"

"Kissed."

"And was it-" Milton began.

"-And then she got possessed. So, you know... Very… confusing."

Milton shook his head incredulously.

"You're not confusing actual feelings for her for supernatural activity, are you? I mean... It's Kim... And it's you."

"Yes, Milton. I can tell the difference. And - so you are clear on this - I know I like her, but there is an added element of supernatural lust that verges on perverted need to hurt and that is why I'm trying to stay clear."

"Because-"

"Because the ghost of Aimil doesn't want me to be near Kim. So, until we finish with the exorcism, I don't think it would be advisable to start anything."

"And Kim is fine with it?"

"Kim- Kim was terrified, Milton. She thinks that when Aimil takes over, the ghost tries to off me because it sees me as her father."

Jack spoke with obvious tension coiling in him, "And I would argue with her on that, but-" he neatly punched the shelf in his frustration. "When the dark feeling came over me, I- I think I may have grabbed her too hard. Or she'd seen _something_ in me. I don't know, but she was terrified and then, suddenly, Aimil was standing instead of Kim telling me to leave her alone. So, yeah, we should solve this first and then, who knows? Maybe she wouldn't be so terrified."

Jack was both hurt and resigned and Milton felt acutely his friend's misery. This house was nothing but bad news to them all.

* * *

After frustratingly fruitless afternoon, the residents of Turlann were in the drawing room yet again, when the hellish jangling of the ancient brass doorbell echoed through the house. Kim jolted upright in fright. Milton and the Laird, both reading through some of the journals of the past owners, looked up startled. Kim instinctively looked at Jack with wide, dark eyes, her mouth turning down at the corners.

Lady Fiona stood.

"Who could it be?" she said, her voice shaking and the Laird came to stand beside her.

Their poise embarrassed Jack and when the jangling came again he made a few long strides to the door and threw it open.

"We've found a clue!"

Kim exhaled in relief, "Oh… God."

It was Isla. And Angus.

* * *

"I knew there was something not right soon as I saw the door off its hinges, I just knew."

The couple of late night visitors came into the drawing room. Isla was practically vibrating with excitement.

"From the start if you will, lass," said the Laird.

"Well, you know there is groundskeeper's shed over by the trees there…" Isla paused for breath and to take the glass of water Kim had poured.

"So, I was chatting to people at the pub. You know, everyone was hanging out after the gathering opened. And Angus was there and I told him that Turlann was disturbed again. And of course there was that near drowning. And we talked and then we went to..." Suddenly Isla stopped and blushed prettily, "... check the lake and the pier. And that when we noticed that someone's gone and broken the shed door down. Right off its hinges too."

"Oh. Oh my, Jack, that sounds very interesting-" Milton looked up at Jack, who refused to meet his eye.

Angus leaned forward with an air of mystery.

"Not a thing missing, see," he murmured. "Tools, parts, even some power equipment. All was there. Nothing missing… But the bottle of whiskey!"

Jack cleared his throat. Milton turned to look at him again, his mouth set in a thin, disapproving line.

"Well, I mean," Angus mused, "The bottle were still there, but there wasn't a drop of whiskey left in it-"

"I'm afraid that this information is irrelevant to our situation," Jack said abruptly. Milton gave Jack a meaningful look. Jack studied the carpet.

"It's not the empty bottle that matters. It's the kind of whiskey it was."

The Laid suddenly perked up, "Indeed?"

"What? What are we missing?" Rudy looked between the three Scotsmen.

"Oh nothing much. It's just it was known that the McKrupnicks used to own a distillery, you know, for making whiskey. Put out a small batch every year. It was a good one too. Only at some point they stopped making it and those remaining bottles are near impossible to find."

"Let me guess: it stopped around the time of Aimil's disappearance?" Jack deadpanned.

"Yes!" Isla trilled. "So, why was it there? At the shed? And I think-"

"-that Aimil is there? At the shed?" Kim whispered.

The Laird shook his head vehemently. "That shed is relatively new. Two decades at most."

Isla was wilting a little but continued, "But what if there was some other structure before that?"

"Whiskey… Distillery..." Milton said quietly, almost inaudibly, but it resonated.

Everyone turned to see Milton's eyes widen, an expression of brilliant ecstasy lighting his features. His friend knew this face. It meant that Milton had an answer.

"Milton? What is it?"

"Whiskey!" Milton grabbed Jack by the shoulders and shook him. "Whiskey!"

"I've had enough that one time," Jack muttered.

Milton caught his lower lip in his teeth, visibly jittery with excitement.

"Nothing?" he said imploringly.

"Whiskey was last made when Aimil was alive… And… her father drank a lot?" Jack disengaged and straightened his shirt. "And… ?"

Milton waved a hand dismissively, "No!"

He spun on his heel and pointed a finger at Kim. She shrank, worried that he would quiz her next, but instead he fixed her with a wild, bright eyed look and uttered triumphantly, "Blueprints!"

He looked around, excited, only to be met with blank faces. His own face fell.

"No? Good lord…"

He ran his fingers through his hair, looking almost wounded by their lack of comprehension, then he came back to life and his bright eyes fixed on the Laird.

"We need blueprints! To find where distillery was!"

Somehow realizing the importance of the moment, the Laird quickly answered "My study!"

* * *

Milton dashed through hallways, Laird and others trying to keep up with him, but Jack quickly outpaced them and was ahead.

The exhilaration of knowing that they were on the edge of solving this problem made Milton buzz with anticipation. He loved this bit. They had a plan, a solution, Wasabis united together and Jack taking the lead...

Milton was still ten foot behind him when Jack reached the study. Others has fallen behind even more. Milton stopped outside to catch his breath, one hand on the wall. Jack made straight for the desk.

"It should be in the portion about house reconstruction, I think?" Milton panted. "You'd know how distillery plans would look, right?"

Jack ignored him, going through the prints on the side of the large desk. At some point he nearly knocked them all off and growled in irritation.

Milton shook his head. _He really wants this thing solved._

Jack raised his head to flash a sly, triumphant smile at his friend.

No more than three 10 feet away, Milton saw his expression change in an instant. Jack dropped the sheaf of papers he was holding and stumbled towards Milton reaching out to him. The last thing Milton registered was the pure panic in Jack's eyes and then...

The heavy mahogany door creaked on its hinges and slammed in his face.

"Jack!"

Milton tried the handle desperately, then threw his shoulder to the door.

"Jack!" his voice was edging towards hysteria. The silence inside the room made the hairs rise on the back of his neck.

"Say something, Jack. Answer me."

Milton pressed his forehead to the door, fear rising like bile in his throat. Then, finally, a sound.

"Oh no. Oh no, no, no..."

Soft, insidious, the syrupy trickle of water began creeping out from beneath the door.

A/N: So, about Kick. I hope you are not disappointed that our couple decided to not start anything yet. They have feelings and it's because of those feelings they must solve the ghostly issues first. But as you can see, their decision is not without angst.


	16. Chapter 16

"No!" Milton grasped the doorknob so hard that his knuckles turned white. "Hold on Jack, I'll get you out-"

Then Kim's small hands were pulling him back and the looming bulk of Angus was slamming into the door, over and over, shaking the walls until plaster flakes settled in their hair like snow.

Milton counted away the seconds. After one minute without oxygen, brain cells begin to die. After three, irreversible damage was likely. After five... He glanced at Kim. He could tell she was thinking it too.

Forty seconds. Had it been, or more? The average man could hold his breath for thirty seconds before inhaling water, but Jack was healthy, strong athlete. Young too... But it could happen fast, drowning, Milton thought. Faster than most were aware.

With a roar of effort, Angus hit the door like a Pamplona bull and the wood began to buckle. Milton, Jerry and Rudy pushed Kim aside and joined Angus. Two more charges at the door and finally it gave. Unable to withstand the combined force of four men, the great door groaned and surrendered it's hinges. It crashed inwards and hit the floorboards with a dull thud.

The study was wet as a cave. The cold green stink of the lake filled Milton 's throat as he staggered with the momentum of his efforts, almost falling into the room. Kim flitted past them into the murky darkness, and the yellowed light bulbs flickered back to life, buzzing numbly.

Jack was slumped over the desk. Water dripped steadily from his hair and the hem of his shirtsleeves, his limp fingertips. There was a stillness to him that frightened Milton. He helped Rudy to manhandle Jack out of the chair and lay him on the floor. Angus and the Laird hovered over them as their sensei went through the motions, checking for pulse, breathing, tipping Jack's head back. He motioned for one of them to help him and it was Kim who stepped up.

She bent to cover Jack's lips with her own.

 _Cold,_ she thought. A morbid replay of their kiss. One strong breath, then she turned to look at Rudy. Two fingers on Jack's wrist, he shook his head. Kim tucked her hair behind her ear and bent to Jack's mouth again, his lips like ice.

"One more try then we'll go for CPR," Rudy said quietly.

Kim took a deep breath and exhaled hard into Jack's mouth. Abruptly, he began to choke, and Kim tasted lake water.

"Oh thank god!" Rudy maneuvered Jack onto his side as an impossible amount of water spilled silently from his mouth. Kim held his head.

"He's not waking up," she said nervously.

"There's a pulse. He's alive," Rudy reached out to touch Kim lightly on the shoulder. "We need to get him to a hospital, but he'll be alright," he reached for his phone and swore when the screen showed no signal.

"Let's get him to the car."

"I'll take him," Angus crouched beside Jack and lifted him with surprising gentleness and unsurprising ease. One of his arms hung loose. Kim reached out to grasp his wrist and followed Angus out into the hall, Jack's weak pulse fluttering at her fingertips. Rudy walked ahead, holding his phone out like a beacon, searching for a bar of signal.

Yet something eerily familiar in the atmosphere of the hallway made Kim draw closer to Angus and Jack.

"Guys, please," she called, "Stay back. Stay close."

Rudy turned to answer, his phone still held aloft, when a moving shadow detached from the gloom in the corner of the landing and reared silently up behind him.

"Rudy!" Kim screamed, dropping Jack's wrist and darting towards the sensei. His bemused expression turned sour as tendrils of darkness spilled over his shoulders. He swore as the cell phone was wrenched from his grip and thrown with immeasurable force back down the hallway. Kim ducked as it flew past and heard it smash behind her. The carpet runner jerked hard as if pulled by an unseen hand and Kim lost her balance, falling onto her knees. She saw Milton and Jerry go down too, and felt Angus hit the ground beside her. She scrambled forward as the carpet slid back on the polished boards, taking them with it. The sound of water rushing from the direction of the study made Kim take a deep, instinctive breath and hold it, just in time. The roar overtook them and a deluge of greenish water thundered over their heads, pulling them back again like a tide.

"Get to the stairs!" Kim heard Laird shout over the barrage. She struck out, desperately trying to find purchase on something, anything, the lake slime slipping under her hands. she felt something get ahold of her ankle and she struck out hard, fear giving her power. Someone grabbed her dress collar and lifted her bodily out of the water. Angus, the Scottish giant, waist deep in the swirling flood, still holding Jack with one arm, began to drag her towards the stairs.

Milton was holding onto the balustrade ten feet away the Laird near him and holding on tightly.

"Fiona! Fiona!" the man lamented loudly and Kim half wondered if Isla sensed the disturbance and maybe ran before the house attacked her and Lady Fiona.

Jerry managed to climb over the rails and was above the water level. The water had swept them back further than she thought. Angus pushed her towards Milton as they neared and they half fell, half stumbled down the stairs. At the bottom, the water eddying around their ankles, Kim looked back.

There was something at the top of the stairs. That dark figure, shifting and flickering like a dirty reel of film. _Aimil!_ Her hair, that looked more like seaweed, obscured the face, but Kim thought she recognized the shape. It watched them go, its face cast in shadow. Kim's head began to swim. A crash from downstairs brought her back to her senses and she followed Angus, Rudy and others as they raced towards the next flight of stairs.

A portrait ripped itself from its hanging and caught Rudy in the shoulder hard enough to spin him off balance. Hampered by his earlier hard fall, he was falling behind. Kim fell back to grab his arm.

"Jesus Christ!" he gasped, "Why the fuck did we stay here? We're all going to fucking die!"

"Shut up," Kim ordered breathlessly. "Shut up and run."

A howling wind full of half heard whispers whipped Kim's hair around her face. The lights flashed and dimmed, strobing their movements. With a well of panic pressing a lump into her throat and her heart pounding in her chest and stomach, Kim realized that tears were streaming down her cheeks. Angus bounded ahead of her, Jack's rag doll form held easily against his chest. They ran blindly, weaving as objects flew at them, statues sliding from their plinths and crashing into their path, making the floor shake with the impact of stone.

They reached the main staircase. The front door was open, and Kim let out a ragged sob of relief. She broke ahead of the others, her legs beginning to give in, her fingertips spread towards the open door, towards freedom and the still, clear night air.

Ten steps, five steps, three…

The warm air blessed her face and Kim caught herself a moment before it happened - because really she knew that it would, it was too cruel, the open door not an invitation but a taunt - and she was right. She was two steps from the door when the freezing, whispering wind moved past her and slammed it in her face. Her momentum carried her forward and she fell against the door and heard the key turn in the lock.

Everyone stopped in their tracks as Kim screamed in almost animal frustration. Suddenly she was running past him across the hall. She grabbed a heavy mahogany chair, and with more strength than Milton would have given her credit for, she lunged at the stained glass panelling beside the door with the chair raised over her head. She brought it down hard enough to break the glass, but the chair hit a force inches away from the window and spun out of her hands, crashing into the tiles and sliding away from her with a blood curdling screech.

She allowed herself to fall, shaking. The wind fell and the house was quiet. Only Kim's sobbing and the sound of Milton's own breath catching in his throat disturbed the silence. Then Angus spoke.

"Nowt to do but wait," he said darkly. "Best thing to do with him is keep him warm."

Jack lay still in his arms. Through the water, the wind and the chase, he hadn't shown any sign of waking.

* * *

As Kim suspected, Isla sensed the change in the house energy and managed to get herself and Lady Fiona out. While Laird McKrupnick was somewhat happy about it, Kim was worried. Without Isla there to help them, Wasabi Warriors plus two Scots were on their own to deal with ghosts and a hostile house. There was no cellular network signal and any and all openings in Turlann were impenetrable from inside and outside.

They were truly trapped here.

Climbing the stairs again with his arm around Kim, Milton could feel the tension in her thin shoulders. Her fists were clenched and her lips pale. Fear, he thought at first, but examining the set of her mouth he realized that she was angry. Milton was terrified but Kim … Kim was livid.

The house felt full, an audience on the edge of some happening, sprung with anticipation. Milton could sense movement in every shadow, unseen eyes watching them walk. A low hum pervaded the hallway, making his eardrums pound. In the East wing they heard footsteps upstairs, pattering back and forth, distant, then drawing closer, directly over their heads. Milton closed his eyes, overwhelmed by a sick shudder of fear.

They reached Jack's room. Jerry shouldered the door open, and with a grinding noise that made Milton start and pull Kim closer, the carved standing mirror lurched away from the wall and revolved, showing it's stained back to the room. Angus laid Jack on the bed and stepped back, shaking his head.

"What is it, lad?" Laird asked quietly, all of them communicating in hush tones now.

"We oughta fetch blankets from the other bedrooms," Angus said. "He's that bleddy cold my hands are frozen from liftin' him."

"Come with me, lads," Laird motioned for them to follow and Jerry ambled after the older man.

A smaller mirror by the window cracked spontaneously as Jerry shut the door behind him, and Milton felt Kim duck out from under his arm. She bent over Jack's unconscious form and touched his cheek.

"Please," she said. He looked alabaster, unmoving. Kim tried to push the thought away but it lingered: Jack looked dead. She moved her open palm in front of his mouth, felt the faintness of his breath, weak but steady.

"Please," she whispered it this time. "You have to wake up, Jack. If you can hear me, please, please wake up…"

A low laugh, modulated as though relayed through a poor frequency... Kim clamped her hands over her ears and spun around. She could tell by Milton's face that he'd heard it too. Angus whispered fiercely in Gaelic, but the sound came again it was closer, behind her left shoulder. She turned as a white-hot rush of anger overtook her panic.

"Is this a warning, you twisted bastard?" Kim hissed into the empty darkness behind her. "You tried, but you're not going to stop him. He'll never stop. We'll never stop. We will find you out. We will finish this. You failed. He's alive."

"Kim, don't," Milton warned.

The shutters flew back against the wall, flooding the room with moonlight.

"Enough of your platform-magic spirit-knocking intimidation!" Kim screamed. "Come and talk to me!"

The heavy velvet curtains surrounding the bed tore and dropped to the carpet, heavy as a snake.

"Kim..." Jack's voice was hoarse, barely a whisper.

Kim turned, breathless, and darted to the bed.

"Kim..." then something so quiet that Kim had to bend close to hear.

"Don't, lass! 'Tis trickery an'-" Angus was pleading, but she didn't listen.

Milton had moved to the bedside with her; two fingers on Jack's wrist, he looked into his ashen face. Jack's eyes were open.

"Kim," Milton spoke urgently. Something was wrong. "What's he saying?"

Kim looked up at him slowly, perturbed.

"He said... Tie me down."

"Oh god!" Milton saw a cloudy film move across Jack's irises as his eyes rolled back in his head.

"Angus," he called. "Kim, step back! Angus! Guys!"

Jack's arm shot up to grab a handful of Kim's hair. She screamed in pain and shock as he pulled her closer, staring blind and sloe-eyed into her terrified face.

"Hello, sweet girl," he said flatly.

Then, in a cruel mimicry of Kim's voice-

"Talk to me."

Kim was only vaguely aware of Milton struggling to pull Jack away from her. She watched, eyes wide and transfixed as a sadistic smile contorted his face. Pain ripped through her scalp as she disengaged, strands of her hair still locked in Jack's fist.

Then Jack sat up suddenly and sent Milton flying with an easy sweep of his arm, never releasing his hold on her. Without a moment's hesitation, Angus cast his weight onto Jack's body, pressing his wrists into the mattress with huge, spade like hands.

"Rope," he said to Milton, who was struggling to his feet half dazed.

"Broom closet on the ground floor, good man," Laird offered from the entrance and started walking that way passing by Jerry, who must have been caught in the middle of grabbing blankets as one still was clutched in his hand.

Angus craned his neck to look at Kim, sitting on the floor by the bed, hugging her knees and trembling.

"Alright, lass?"

"It's the father," she muttered. "He's taken him."

"Aye, I can see that," Angus struggled to contain Jack as he twisted under his grip. A low growl rose in Jack's throat as he managed to free one hand and claw at Angus' face. The bigger man swore and lifted Jack's body clean off the bed by the lapels.

"I'm awful sorry about this, but until them back with the rope I'm going to have to put your beau out for a while."

Angus landed a heavy right hook to Jack's jaw and he went limp. Kim dropped to her knees by the bed and brushed Jack's damp hair back from his forehead. A fresh thread of blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. It looked black in the moonlight.

"He's not my- beau," Kim said quietly. "I'm just his friend."


	17. Chapter 17

The House was awake.

It stood poised on the tip, coiled to pounce. Even after the crashing horror of only moments before, the hush was no salve at all. What's to come, Milton thought, if that was just for trying to leave? What now?

Teetering on the brink, the atmosphere jangled nervously, every atom of dust hanging still in the air. The leap would lead to what? When the storm broke, what lay after? A darkness, roiling, angry. Rustling and full as a pit of snakes.

Milton walked down the hallway, shaking, trying hard to keep his focus ahead. The corner of his eye caught a detail that almost made him moan in terror. Every statue he passed, disfigured. Their mouths hung open, too wide, frozen in a sickening, silent howl.

Milton was halfway down the main staircase when he noticed the trail of wet footprints trailing across the tiles. They led from the cellar all the way to -

He gasped.

The front door was open. A cool breeze drifted in, smelling of cut grass and myrtle. In the distance, Milton heard the serrated call of a nightingale. A soft helpless sound of relief escaped his lips. It was over. He picked up his pace, but stopped at the end of the stairs as the realization hit.

Immediately, Milton understood the terms.

They were free to go. Jack was not.

Milton started as a shrill sound guillotined the mute air. On the hall table the rotary telephone was ringing. The surreality of the mundane noise echoing through the House was oddly nauseating. Light headed, Milton crossed the hallway and slowly raised the receiver to his ear.

"Hello?"

"Hello there, sir, regional electrics here. Nigel speaking."

"Regional...?"

"Yes, sir, electrics, sir. Nigel."

"Hello Nigel."

Milton slowly raised his free hand to his forehead, bewildered.

"Hello sir. Looks like you went off the grid for a while there, just calling to see if everything's back on form."

"Yes, we- we're fine."

"Don't need me to send someone out to take a quick look at the box for you?"

"No. Definitely not."

"Right you are, sir. These old houses eh? I lived in one like it myself actually, few years back. Well, not quite as grand, mind..."

The crackle of interference crept over Nigel's chatter.

"Sorry, you're breaking up-"

"Go now."

Milton snatched the phone from his ear as if it were red hot. The voice coming down the line was distorted, but recognisable as a young girl's.

"He has been taken. Leave now. Take girl and leave. You leave him. Leave now. You leave him. Taken. You leave him."

The voice repeated with the grating monotony of a dial tone.

Milton slammed the phone down and stared at it, panting.

 _Jack._ She meant Jack. He had guessed right.

"Well, we're going to take him back," Milton hissed at the silent telephone, then headed for the refrigerator to get soda. Or anything that wasn't made here, in this House.

* * *

"If he wakes up and he's still possessed this will keep us safe until we think of something. And if he isn't possessed… Well, I'm sure he'll understand," Milton mumbled as he thread the rope.

"Anyway, who knows? Maybe he likes this sort of thing…" Jerry added with forced cheer, but trailed off at Kim's questioning look.

"Not quite the time for humor," she muttered, testing the bonds at Jack's chest.

They had tied him in the manner of old psychiatric restraints, feeding the rope under the mattress to encircle Jack's body at the ankles, waist, wrists and chest. They worked fast, scared that he would wake up and terrified that he wouldn't. Blessedly, he hasn't began to stir as Milton pulled tight the final knot. Wondering at the strength of the rope, Milton wished fervently that Angus hadn't left. He had gone to test of the door had any traps and to fetch help as soon as he heard that the door was open. Unfortunately, once people left the house, they couldn't get back in.

Isla, who bravely tried to go in, was repelled from crossing the threshold with enough force to send her flying back. After she landed badly and Angus helped her up, it was obvious that the house might release people, but would not allow anyone in. In fact, after Isla's attempt, the door slammed close again and Kim's hope that they would get help from their supernatural-adjacent friend has diminished somewhat.

Kim sat near Jack's bed taking stock of him, pale and with a bloody lip, feeling helpless.

"The House, it wants to keep Jack. In fact, I think it's Aimil's doing," Milton sounded tired.

"She's keeping him and us here trapped? With her father in control?" It didn't sound right to her. Aimil wanted to protect everyone from her father, even if it meant- "Wait... She wants to keep Jack here, because he's possessed by her father. And we know that he drowned... Then- Oh god! It makes sense!" she nearly cried.

"What does?"

"She is trying to kill her father, wherever he maybe. Whoever he might be. And she already drove him once to drown, and all this lake water and the flood... It's her. She somehow controls it, the house and the lake! I don't know how, but she does!"

"Why did she try to kill you though? It makes no sense!" Rudy was fidgety.

"It does to me. If only I paid attention before..." Laird Alistair looked stricken and the continued. "Fiona said she had bad dreams back when she was younger. With a young girl in them and wetness in rooms upon waking. You see, it didn't happen to me, but now I think it now why. The ghost concerns herself with young girls and women. And maybe that demented father ghost didn't try to take me because I love Fiona. And there wasn't any little girls here in while. Safe for Isla, but she is different."

"So, Aimil thinks its necessary to protect me by all means. From her father and from Jack, who is possessed now. But she- She tried to ward Jack off before too... She must have suspected that her father will come to possess Jack- But how?" Kim's brain was firing rapidly connecting dots.

"The dreams..." Milton scarcely believed the words escaped his mouth.

"What dreams? Did Jack see the father's ghost like I saw Aimil? He didn't tell anything-"

"No, not that kind of dreams..." Milton privately sent a prayer that Jack would understand when the time came. "He had- unusually vivid and disturbing dreams of- carnal kind," he finished lamely, remembering that Laird Alistair was with them and hoped the rest of his face and eyes communicated his thought.

"Carnal kind? As in-" Rudy's eyes went wide and he looked at unconscious Jack in morbid fascination.

Kim colored bright red realizing what Milton was suggesting and then, in a flash, remembered Jack coming to her for a midnight kiss that chilled her to the bone. He was so cold then; almost as cold as now...

 _Oh god_ , she paled and shuddered. It wasn't Jack, who kissed her. It was the father.

And Aimil then tried to make Kim drown.

 _Death before dishonor_...

* * *

"He's coming round," said Kim. Then, "God, his eyes…"

They both stepped back from the bed. Jack lay staring straight up at the ceiling, methodically flexing and unflexing his fingers. His eyes were the cloudy grey of smoked glass.

"Rising punch, front kick, sliding step, palm-heel press, tiger mouth block-strike," he intoned clearly, expressionless.

"Kim, be a dear and… Sparring session. Would you? Cool-cool-cool. Chest strike, knife hand block, jump kick. C-cord, slide guitar. Ohh, interesting trick, slide guitar... Try not to stare, you're breaking my concentration."

"Jack...?" Kim moved towards the bed.

Milton's arm shot out to stop her.

"It's not… Jack," Milton swallowed, looking fearfully at the figure on the bed. "It's just… _He's_ picking through Jack's brain. _He's_ trying to cobble together a semblance of Jack. But it isn't him."

"Ah, Milton," said Jack robotically. "You shouldn't have done that. Always the smart one, but not so brave. All brains and no brawn. Where is the oaf to be you muscle?"

"We did a good job before Angus. We did ok even without you," said Rudy wryly. "I still know how to lay out a teen black belt, who's thinks too much of himself."

Something shifted in him and Jack's body drew a deep breath into Jack's lungs, and his chest strained against the bonds as if internal battle was taking place.

Kim touched his forehead. He was cold, and the strange eyes flicked up at her.

"Oh, god, Kim…" the voice was hoarse this time, exhausted. Kim thought she saw something surface beneath the cataracts, the desperate thrashing of a fish on a hook.

"It's you," she whispered. "Jack..."

"Kim, I can feel that… I can't see you, please…"

Jack turned his head, staring at her with wide, blank eyes. Kim swallowed hard.

"Fight it," she pleaded. "Jack, fight it. With everything you've got."

"Yes," said Jack. "For you."

With her heart lodged in her throat, Kim held his hand under the ropes. _Please, fight it. For me and for you_...

"For you, dear girl."

The hand closed tightly around Kim's fingers before she could pull away.

"Thin little fingers. Softest skin. Like silk... Give me your sweetness, like you did with him."

Kim gasped, shaking: those dead eyes roamed her face.

"I will use his body so well on yours. Oh sweet girl. Just wait. Just wait."

Milton was already trying to dislodge Jack and Rudy jumped in and tried to prise Jack's fingers open, but the grip was like iron. There wasn't enough space for more people and Jerry hung anxiously nearby with a heavy book in his hand.

"Tell me when and I'll knock him out."

Kim's knuckles ground together sickeningly, and she cried in pain. Jack's body twisted, his eyes flashed - there, warm brown with flecks of dark green irises, his pupils blown out, Jack stared Kim in the eye, livid.

"Let her go," Jack roared, and his hand opened like a sprung trap. He began to hyperventilate.

"Wake up. Damn you. Stupid, weak, scared-wake up." Then back to her, "Kim, baby, run, please. He wants- wants-"

Jack's head jerked back as if he'd been hit. His eyes rolled into greyness. A bright line of blood trailed from the corner of his lips, garish against his pallor.

"That," said Milton, "was him."

* * *

Jack raised his hand to where he'd been hit. He felt blood, and the raw swell of a new bruise, his lip split against his teeth. Tasted the sweetish, shrill metallic tang, but when he looked at his fingers they were stained not red, but black. He smelled the lake water, and the taste changed from metal to stagnant dirt. He retched and spat. The walls billowed dizzily around him, meeting over his head, swelling, pulsing. His vision blurred.

Where was he?

Jack looked around, struggling to focus. A long hallway. But not really. He knew he was bound earlier (clever of them, so clever), so this must be in his head.

Yes.

But the hallway hadn't been this long before, had it?

No.

And he felt-

(invaded, infiltrated, polluted, just… Wrong.)

Jack shuddered with the realisation. There was something in here with him.

Then a flash of something horrible, pictures arriving in his mind, awful, awful. The girl. And he was-

Jack ground both fists into his eyes.

"Don't show me this."

"Don't show you what?"

"What you did to her. I don't want to see it."

"But it is here. I am not showing you anything that you did not choose to see."

"No."

"You came here, with you body fine tuned to her and you are perfect. You want her too. I know, I've seen it."

"Not like this. I'll never hurt her like this. Not her!"

Jack bowed his head, covered his mouth with one shaking hand. He opened his eyes but the pictures remained, jittering through his vision, projected on the walls of his own mind even as he twisted and cowered away.

"Here you are. Everything."

"Make it stop."

"You hide behind your friendship and camaraderie. You pride yourself on your strength. Your body and your affections. In here, there is nothing. There is only me. You grow weaker every second."

"Who am I talking to?"

"Don't you know anymore?"

"Why am I here?"

"Every second, a little more."

"Where.. am I?"

* * *

"It's killing him."

Milton looked up. On the bed, Jack's body tensed, head thrown back, pale throat rigid. He choked and more blood trickled from his mouth. When he relaxed back into the pillows, Kim leaned in to dab at his lips with a crimson stained tissue. These spasms had been occurring every minute or so for the best part of an hour, and he was weakening.

Kim took Jack's pulse, her brow furrowed in concentration. Then she went back to the book.

Kim scanned the pages. A possession.

In a way, she thought, you knew this was going to happen. But then again, she never thought that it would happen to him.

She read methodically, taking in information like a school textbook. What is required. What materials. What must be done.

She needed Isla and her help. But how to get to her? The house, Aimil wasn't letting them go... Well, she did once... It was worth the try.

Kim walked with the Laird to the front door, fervently asking Aimil to let them go. She spoke quietly, somehow sure that the ghost would hear her.

"Aimil, you must let us go. Open the door. You have no ill will towards me and the Laird. _He_ is still in, _he's_ not going anywhere. Please..."

The movement of the stale air didn't surprise her at all and she breathed in relief as the door swung open and she saw Isla, Angus and Lady Fiona on the other side.

"I'll stay, lass. You are my guests. And you might need my help. I know this place better than you..."

She was grateful to the older man and smiled, "If you wish. Thank you."

They stopped just inside the threshold and she raised her voice to project.

"Isla, the father ghost took over Jack. He is fighting it, but the ghost is strong and, I think, we're running out of time."

She saw that Isla made the necessary connections too, "And Aimil is not letting Jack out of the house now. She's trying to end it..." She looked over Kim carefully. _"You_ won't be safe with _him_ in charge."

"We tied him for now. But we need to expel _his_ ghost and somehow pacify _her._ I think she is a little crazy. Her mission became murky over time. It was she, who tired to drown me..."

Isla looked pensive and then nodded resolutely, "We'll try the double banishment. We have access to the lake, where _he_ drowned. You have to find where she was laid in her death."

Kim nodded too. She figured this part already, "Milton thinks it was in the old whiskey distillery. That was what they looked for in the study before the flood. The blue prints are ruined probably, but I think we can figure it out. _She_ showed me and Milton things... about herself. I have an idea where it might be."

"And Jack needs to fight the curse of that demented spirit. _He_ was a twisted, perverted man. Jack needs to be strong. Stronger that hate, stronger than obsession, stronger than all dark desires..."

Kim nearly cried again. It was so unfair to them. "Its a lot to ask of him."

"Maybe. Love is a lot to ask for."

 _Love...?_

Kim looked up and caught Isla's eye.

The other girl watched her in reverence, trusting her. And Kim felt it too. The two of them were putting their faith now in snake oil, mugwort, silver and wax and ... Love, a magic more potent and more ancient than any. There was nothing else to do.

Here in this shadowed, haunted house with the moon stilled in the sky, a pale figure convulsing on the bed, and something lost trailing its wet footprints through the halls; there was nothing left of what was true before.

Nothing at all.

A/N: So, we are setting up for the big resolution with banishment procedure. This probably felt like a transitional chapter, but I wanted to give you the feel of what Jack is going through and how others perceive it.


	18. Chapter 18

A/N: To answer one comment: I binged on _Penny Dreadful_ around Halloween time and this is the result. Vanessa in _Penny Dreadful_ was restrained when she was possessed, although it was Victorian times and she was in a loony bin, so... Also, in the same vein, this chapter has some religious stuff, which would be twisted into sacrilegious things. Again, beware, this is inspired by Victorian Gothic horror TV-show. I'm sorry in advance if it grosses you out.

* * *

Jack was in the hallway again. It was the same long and shadowed place, but at least the constant slide show in his head stopped. His jaw felt bruised all over and he rubbed it with both hands.

His head hurt, as did his heart, and he placed a palm over it. He'd take punches and more if it meant that _he_ didn't put _his_ hands on Kim. Although this would be another time Jack was able to fight off the spirit.

Not a huge victory considering that he got possessed in the first place. Even before that- those dreams he had. How was this happening?

"It's desire that calls me," a deep resonant voice came from behind and Jack turned around.

"Show yourself, coward!"

"Coward, am I? I'm not the one who is afraid."

Jack winced. It was the truth: he was terrified. Of himself, of what he could do to people around him while this demented spirit had a hold on him. And now it was exploiting his fear...

 _Vicious..._

The word rattled inside Jack's head as he forcefully thought of spelling it out. Visualizing each letter, each stroke of the pen as he traced them in cursive.

So long ago... He learned it so long ago. And he was so bad at it. He had to repeat letters again and again, wasting pages and pages of paper. Later, when nearly everything was typed, the memory of the exercise - of cursive writing - became a meditation tool.

And it helped again, now, to ward off the images this- this demon was showing Jack.

"Vice," said the resonant voice. It was so close. Jack could feel the cold presence behind him as if he was standing near the freezer. "That's what you think I represent?"

Jack opened his eyes and looked at the middle aged man. He was about the same height as Jack, his complexion had the greenish-gray hue to it and his eyes were cruel in their near whiteness.

"My name is Torray, not demon, although I'm flattered," he inclined his head. "You're stronger than I thought. But no matter, I know what you have done already, in this very house..." he trailed off suggestively.

"It wasn't me. You- you gave me those dreams!"

"I tempted you, yes, but you fell for it so easily..."

Just like that the memory of Jack's own hand bringing relief to the images of Kim's pale and willing flesh and golden hair surged in him, making him almost dizzy with desire...

 _Damnation..._

He forced himself to look at the ghost. Jack felt like a mouse on a nature documentary, always caught in the snake's stare. Stuck. Hypnotized. Torray's eyes moved over his face and looking into those sightless orbs was devastating, unnatural.

"Do you know who I am, Jack?" Torray whispered, and Jack's whole body flushed with hate. He wanted to swear and curse, but found it impossible to think of anything.

Because underneath the hate, the earlier memory still stirred and he felt like he was being consumed by his own physical body. Like his soul was lost already.

Jack said, voice rough and throat dry, "A cursed spirit. Taken down for you sins."

Jack was so lightheaded. He felt like he might collapse at any moment. He closed his eyes again, tried to imagine cursive writing.

"Do you know which sin that was my downfall?"

Jack kept his eyes closed, refused to look at the creature in front of him. Tried to ignore the suffocating heat of his body, flush with memories.

"L- lust."

"Ahh, but we all are sinners and demons then, aren't we? What would be your downfall, Jack?" Torray smiled cruelly...

And then dove into Jack.

Immediately the images he suppressed emerged, but now they were more vivid and bright.

 _He wasn't watching anymore. He was reliving them. Torray was reliving them._

It felt like his whole body felt set on fire. He was a devastating mix of heat and shame, weak in the knees and flushed in embarrassment, hands in tight fists at his sides.

"Nnoo," Jack gasped, dizzy with self loathing. "God help me, please, please."

 _The girl was before him, kneeling, like she was praying..._

"Tell me, daughter mine, what is your sin?"

"You are."

"Yes."

 _Fingers, thin and nimble, were on **him** and he shook in revulsion and arousal. She leaned in..._

"NO!" the sound ripped from Jack's throat like a knife and it cut through the vision and expelled the spirit from him.

"Tell me, Jack, what is your downfall?" Torray stood in front of him again.

He was still shaking, the mind dealing with shame and shock and... lust...

 _So weak, I am so weak. I can't fight it._

"Pride," he said, voice thick. "Hubris and Pride."

Torray smile was more like a maw of a feral animal, "Good boy. It's hubris that brings us down. Very well, your resistance is admirable. Lets see-"

Suddenly he was by the lake and Kim was before him, in a pretty blue dress, her golden hair loose around her shoulders.

That delicate feeling, which was pure 'Jack and Kim' and sang like the beautiful melody, suffused him and he breathed in relief.

Kim was looking at him with her bright eyes, the color deepening as she took him in. The blush rose in her face as she glanced down. He watched in fascination as one strap of her dress fell and revealed a smooth swell of the top of her breast. It looked soft and supple and warm... Would this gorgeous mound of flesh be tipped with pink?

He felt that darkness rise again in him. _Mine_...

 _No, no, no... I'm damned to Hell for this._

Kim placed a hand on his chest, the touch burning him, and nuzzled against his neck.

"As an apple tree among the trees of the wood, so is my -" she smiled at him, while her other hand traveled down, "- _beloved_. Among young men."

Jack shook his head, unable to take his eyes off her. Was this Song of Solomon from the Bible? He vaguely recalled reading something about it. But it sounded so different when spoken aloud... Shame and horrifying heat squirmed in his stomach.

"With great delight I sat in his shadow," she said, voice low and dark and rhythmic. Exactly how the Bible should be read. Her hand played with the belt buckle tracing lines as she pressed a kiss to his neck and lowered her voice impossibly further. "And his fruit was _sweet_ to my taste."

"Don't," Jack whispered, choked. "Please, please, don't."

Jack's heart thudded against the ribs, noise caught in his throat halfway between a moan and a cry. Kim pressed her body even closer, the hand on his heart heavy and hot, and whispered the Song of Solomon into the skin of Jack's throat.

"Let my beloved come to his garden," teeth grazing Jack's thundering pulse, "and eat its choicest fruits."

Jack's was winding up, hot and heavy and - to his suffocating shame and embarrassment - hard.

He shook his head, a long, low groan escaping him when she put her hand flat on his groin. Jack would burn for this. He was already burning.

It felt like her hand on his chest was on fire and it seared his skin like a brand. He heart thudded like a caged bird and it was as if she held it in her hand and squeezed it.

"Your kisses are like the best wine that goes down smoothly, gliding over lips and teeth."

Kim kissed him, slow and liquid and impossibly sweet, tongue wet and easy.

 _Pride_. _His downfall was his pride. His hubris was to think that he was stronger that this._

Kim pulled away just enough to speak hot and slick against Jack's lips, "I am my beloved's, and his desire is for me."

She went to kneel in front of him and his hand was wrapping itself in all that golden silk.

 _Grab it, twist it, don't let her go, she is yours, take, take her, leave your mark on her, make her feel, make it hurt..._

It was wrong, wrong, wrong...

 _They didn't kiss by the lake. He didn't touch her like that. Couldn't touch her like that, wouldn't... No, no, no... He didn't just lust after her... He loved- So, this- this vision, it was all-_

"Wrong... Stop it... It's not real... I love her. I don't want to hurt her... "

The searing pain in his chest pulsed into his head and then he only saw gray and heard whispers of a prayer.

Jerry...? It was Jerry... Praying. He couldn't see, but he felt like he was himself again: his body - exhausted, head - hurting and his heart - sluggish and painful. No matter, he beat Torray again. For how long though? He needed to tell them -

"Jerry..."

* * *

The House was poised for something. It was as if it was aware of what Kim and Isla were about to attempt. She shared her plan with her group outside of Jack's room. She wasn't sure if the malevolent ghost would hear her and she wasn't taking those chances. They needed to locate where Aimil died before they could try and exorcise her. Milton and the Laird volunteered for the search.

Rudy and Jerry would stay to watch Jack, because everyone understood that Kim would be a magnet to both ghosts for different reasons. Aimil might take over Kim again for protection or to fight her own father. And her father has already tried to catch Kim and they couldn't bet that Jack would be strong enough again to fight it off.

Kim went off to assemble the ingredients for the ritual, taking Isla's book with her and praying that they had time.

Jack looked pale and his body moved fitfully, sightless eyes and constant trickle of blood from the mouth.

In a fit of blind faith and hoping for miracle, Jerry placed his own silver cross onto Jack chest and the effect was both scary and reassuring. Jack's body bowed and moved as much as the rope allowed, trying to dislodge the cross and he hissed nonsensical words that ran together. Jerry only caught some words in Latin, but it was enough to know it was blasphemous and crass. Armed with a new hope and a quick prayer, Jerry pressed the cross down onto Jack's chest fighting the constant bucking of his friend's body. Jack's body gave one more might lurch and then...

"Jerry," a weak hoarse voice startled the curly teen.

"Yeah? Is that you, Jack?"

"It hurts... My heart and my head... It's awful... He wants... God, it's awful. I can't... Keep her away, please..." Jack coughed and turned his head towards Jerry. "Where's Kim?"

"She's not here, dude. Chill," Jerry said with forced nonchalance. "Are you - you?"

Jack's body shook again and he tossed his head back and forth and his voice, when he spoke, was a strange resonant baritone, "Where's she? I need her... My sweet girl..."

"Sure you do," Rudy was ready with a balled fist as Jack's body convulsed again.

"You can't hide her from me. You can't keep me away."

Jack's body shook again, the tossing getting stronger and taking the whole bed with him. The sea-saw movement actually lifted the legs of the bed off the floor and Jerry looked up at his sensei in fear.

"Pray, Jerry," Rudy barked and landed a mighty jab at non-bruised side of Jack's jaw. Jack went slack in the bed. "Sorry, kid."

* * *

Kim finished her preparations. The brew was complete. Luckily for her Isla had a stash of things, like mugworts and wolfsbane, in the kitchen and Laird Alistair helped as he had holy water in the family chapel. He brought the family Bible and even carried the large cross from the chapel.

He and Milton swore that they found a place from Milton's nightmares. The old cellar had to be the place. Milton thought that there had to be another room of the cellar that must have been the distillery. After walking around and measuring the space, he concluded that the distillery was closed off with a wall to forever hide it from the view. They moved the shelves and managed to break an opening large enough for them to crawl through. The plaster wall practically crumbling under their hands and Laird Alistair suspected that Aimil really wanted the room to be discovered again.

Nothing prepared them for what was inside.

There was a cradle...

Milton nearly fainted and stuttered that he saw that very same thing in his walking nightmare and the implications of it were enough to make them all uneasy.

"She was pregnant in my dreams," Kim whispered to no one and the stale air of the room almost visibly moved until a gentle breeze rocked the cradle.

 _"Ring around the rosie, pocketful of posies. Ashes, ashes, we all fall down..."_

The cradle squeaked and the three of them jumped and shuddered at the sound of the song.

Finally, Kim forced herself to move and slowly reached the rocking cradle. She pulled the worn and dirty lace cover, preparing herself for all manner of horrors.

There was a doll. It was old fashioned, with porcelain face and cloth body, but it was neatly dressed and covered by a blanket.

"It's a doll," she whispered in relief and she could hear both Milton and the Laird exhale.

She turned to step back, but suddenly couldn't move. The air was hard and cold around her and she tried to move, but there was no give. She felt tremendous pressure all around her and she could see Milton's and Laird's shocked faces as their mouths opened and closed. She knew they called her, but she couldn't hear anything, save for the rushing of blood in her ears.

Pressure built and built and soon her knees buckled under it and she was sprawled on the stone floors fighting the pressure that tried to crush her body.

"Stop it, Aimil" she managed through trembling lips. "You can't take me now."

Her head felt like it was in a vise and the pain radiated from her forehead down. She could feel the blood running from her nose and she used it to draw a protective rune that Isla showed to her. It was already drawn on her forehead and over her heart and Kim drew another one on the back of her hand.

Suddenly the pressure lifted and the wind picked up, kicking up the dust and rattling debris on the floor. It felt like the whole house shook and when the mortar started raining from the ceiling, Milton made a dash to grab her.

"We have to go! Or she'll bury us alive."

"Milton, it won't be over until she's gone. We stay and we finish it! You can go, but I'm staying. Jack needs it. He needs me!"

Jack's name on her lips brought sudden stillness to the air and the room and Kim's heart throbbed painfully.

 _Please, please, please_ , she begged, _just hold on a little longer, Jack..._

Milton stopped and sighed, the fight and fear leaving him. Laird Alistair carefully unloaded the cross and the brew. When he was done, he turned to Kim held up and thin long blade in his hand.

"Silver, as requested."

Kim got off her position on the floor and when she moved, her foot caught on the uneven stone. it gave way a little and she kicked it off without thinking.

And then stared at her feet.

There, in the small opening under the turned stone, was a human head with strands of dark hair attached.

"We found her. She's buried here. We can start."

A/N: In my mind, Jack and Kim are not particularly religious, but Jerry's family are practicing Catholics. Also, Torray (I had to come up with a name for the ghost or it was getting confusing) is from a different time, when knowledge of Bible was far more common. He is trying to break Jack with those visions and mind games, so he can take over fully.


	19. Chapter 19

A/N: Thank you for reading and reviewing. Makes my day to see a new comment.

* * *

Jack was still knocked out: slack and silent. It was strange as Jerry expected more of the thrashing and mumbling, but Jack was still. If it wasn't for his extreme paleness and the blood trickling from his nose and mouth, it almost looked like he was just asleep.

"I don't like it, Rudy," Jerry looked up at his sensei. "I think when he is out like this, that bastard is loose inside Jack's head, you know?"

"And when he is awake, the ghost takes over his physical body and you saw how strong he is. I don't think this rope would hold the next time he is awake."

"When would the ritual begin? I just want this to be over..."

Rudy looked outside of the window. From here he had a good view of the lake and a small group that was assembled on its shore.

"I can see Isla setting up. Kim said that we'll know when it begins, because the house would react," Rudy looked down at the blade in his hand. "And then it would be our turn... God, I really-really don't want to, but Kim was very sure..."

Jerry gulped, "Yeah, I don't want to either, but, like, we have to."

They fell back into silence and it was the hardest thing to do: to sit and wait and do nothing.

When it started, it was just a slight change in the air pressure. Rudy would have missed it, if he wasn't so focused and full of anticipation. He heard a small buzzing in his ear and looked to see if there was a fly or a mosquito. There weren't any and he looked at Jerry. He, too, was looking around and then the pressure changed again and now Rudy was certain.

Something was happening.

The buzzing in the ears now sounded like someone was playing bass nearby and the sound was both something he heard and felt from the inside.

It grew and grew more steadily and soon, the sound became very audible as it took a quality of the sound wave and rattled things. Small knickknacks around the room started shaking and clinking and Rudy looked outside to see that Isla noticed it too. She was setting up the candles and Rudy turned to Jerry.

"It's time."

They moved the bed so it was closer to the center of the room and with a heavy sigh Rudy took the blade and cut a long thing line along his forearm. Wincing, eyes watering from the sharp pain, he walked in a loose circle around the bed. He passed the blade to Jerry, who did the same thing with his own arm, adding some hushed curse words and blinking away tears.

He, too, walked in the circle, blood dripping from the cut. It leaked and dropped on the floor, where it joined Rudy's, and Jerry swore he saw it multiply and link together to make a full uninterrupted line that was slowly closing around the bed.

When there was only half-foot left, Rudy walked up to Jack and pulled the blade once more. He nodded to Jerry.

"Ready?"

"Ready," he said though something trembled inside him, screaming that he'd never be ready for this.

Rudy moved the rope and cut Jack's shirt away from his chest. With a whispered 'sorry' he drew a crude cross with a tip of the blade into Jack's chest. He used the very tip and tried to use the slightest of pressure. Still, it cut through the skin and the blood sprung forth like red berries on smooth skin.

Reaction to the cutting was immediate. Jack's body bucked and twisted and Jerry was sure that Rudy was right: the ropes wouldn't hold for much longer. Jack thrashed more and Rudy frantically waved at Jerry.

"Now!"

Jerry stepped up and poured the little bit of holy water he had on him into Jack's freshly cut cross.

It sizzled on contact...

...

And the house responded - it shook as if a great earthquake was happening and Rudy and Jerry held onto each other.

Jack's body convulsed mightily and his eyes opened wide, white and sightless and all the more terrifying.

"I can kill him, you know," the deep resonant voice said. It was surprisingly calm, given what was going on. "Rather, _this_ would kill him. _You_ would kill him. Human heart is a fragile thing."

Jerry blinked at being addressed by the ghost and then thought over it's words.

"How? How can you kill him?" Jerry paused in his retreat from the bed, ignoring Rudy pulling him hard.

"He is afraid. So-so afraid. His heart is under tremendous pressure. It's beating so fast. You know that it human heart can stop in fright?"

 _It's a mind trick, he's stalling us._

"I've never know Jack to be a wuss," Jerry shrugged and stepped back.

"He's seen things, things I've shown him. Things he didn't want to see and things he wanted to see, but was afraid to allow himself to see. When this is over, he would remember it all and he would hate himself. Self-loathing is hard to live with. Take it from me." He was addressing Rudy now, "You know what I am talking about? Knowing the full extent of one's own depravity, it is difficult to come back from that. What do you think you righteous pupil would do, if he knew just how un-righteous he truly is?"

It was Rudy's turn to stop and think the insidious words over, but Jerry was pulling him back.

"Rudy! It's the mind games thing. C'mon!"

They both were near the incomplete line, when _it_ spoke again.

"If you think that only his life is in balance, then you're mistaken. Aimil is truly gone insane. She won't let the girl live, because she thinks the girl is better off dead. And she will bring the house down on all of you. Don't think she won't. Let me deal with her. It's me she really wants."

The shaking was intensifying and the dust and mortar that fell from the ceiling was joined by water that smelled of lake and death. When one drop landed on Jerry's nose, he knew.

"Lake water... Aimil..." Rudy mumbled and hesitated yet again. "She's fighting him. She's trying to kill him."

Jerry didn't bother to stop and argue. He dragged Rudy out of the incomplete circle. The shallow silver bowl with a floating candle was thrust inside the line and he squeezed more of his blood from the cut to finish the circle.

It was as if being outside the circle cleared Rudy's confusion, doubts and fear. He stood up straight next to Jerry and nodded along.

"I'm ready."

"Padre nuestro que estás en los cielos, santificado sea tu nombre," Jerry began as Rudy joined him.

"Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven," Rudy was less certain in cadences of the prayer as if out of practice.

Their voices overlayed each other as they continued in near unison.

"Danos hoy nuestro pan cotidiano, Y perdónanos nuestras deudas, asì como nosotros perdonamos á nuestros deudores."

"Give us this day, our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us."

"Y no nos metas en tentación, mas líbranos de mal."

"And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil."

"Amén." "Amen."

Jack's body convulsed more and more as the two friends continued their chant.

Neither was too presumptuous to think that theirs was the driving force of the banishment, but they had an important part to perform.

Isla and Kim were doing the important part of actual banishment and exorcism, but Rudy and Jerry were to stand guard and prevent the ghost from occupying anyone else.

As it was, Jack's body twisted and snarled and, at one point he broke his right hand out of the binds, rubbing his it raw and bloody in the process. He clawed at the carved and bloody cross on his chest, howling mad and the wind was twisting around the room, making a tornado that swirled around the bloody line.

Jerry, terrified and yet determined, didn't stop at simply repeating a prayer. He added wobbly crosses over himself and Jack's body, imagining the scene from the Exorcist.

Jack freed his other hand and it was a quick work of the rest of the rope. Rudy prepared himself for the fight and Jerry hastily grabbed the fire poke that was in the room.

But there was no need. The line of their combined blood held and, as Jack's body charged at them, it repelled him as if there was a wall. Jack stumbled back and looked at them wildly.

"You fucking children! You don't know what are you doing! I will not-" the ghost yelled at them and snarled, but the rest of his words were cut by the sudden sound of pained cry.

And then...

* * *

Kim hastily set up the cross, a bowl with holy water and a floating candle. The basement where they were was shaken. While she was occupied with the setup, Milton and Laird Alistair moved the cobble stones to reveal the resting place of Aimil.

Once the entirety of her bones was revealed, Kim was horrified to see how small they were. How small Aimil must have been. The tragedy of that girl's life washed over Kim again and she hoped that their ritual worked and the girl found her peace as last.

Milton, as the strongest of the three of them, dug out more of the stones and arranged them in a small hill formation around Aimil's bones. Only the top remained uncovered and he nodded to Kim.

She and the Laird cut their arms and walked around the improvised burial hill, dripping blood on the floor. Kim was steadily pouring the brew after herself, watching as the liquid mixed with blood and joined it to make one continuous line. She privately wondered if it would be enough. The ritual suggested that it had to be blood of someone important to the ghost or to the possessed human. Laird Alistair was a stand-in for Aimil's family and Kim... She was singularly connected to Aimil and she hoped that Aimil's concern for her well-being meant that she was somewhat important.

When it was only a few inches left, they left the unfinished circle. Milton and the Laird stepped opposite to Kim and to each other so that the three of them formed a loose triangle. Then they lit their candles and the Laird lifted the family cross from the altar.

Kim cleared her throat and said.

 _"Ashes to ashes,_

 _Dust to dust,_

 _May the wind blow you, wandering ghost_

 _And clear the world of the living,_

 _Turn you to where you belong,_

 _And may you disappear without a trace."_

She turned and nodded to her companions and together they spoke in Scottish Gaelic as Isla instructed them.

 _"Tionndaidh thu chun àite far a bheil thu,_

 _Agus am faod thu a dhol à sealladh gun lorg."_

The wind that previously calmed, picked up again and it twisted around them, trying to knock them down. At some point Kim thought that the dust kicked off by the wind was thrown into her face, making her gag a little and stumble over her chant. She coughed and blinked away the cover of dust that was in front of her. It was no use as it solidified and she wasn't surprised when she saw a visage of Aimil apprear in the dusty relief.

"You can't do that! My job here is not done. He is still around! Do you know what he's done to me?" her words were harsh and there was pain in her voice, which made Kim's heart bleed.

"Ashes to ashes..." she began, but Aimil howled at her and threw more dust Kim's way, making her choke on the next words.

"Do you know what he did to your beau? He made him relive all his memories. Of things he's done to me and things your beau wanted to do to you! I don't know if he can the difference now."

Kim shook her head in denial, "Dust to dust..."

Aimil screamed again and to her own horror Kim realized that water - lake water - started seeping into the cellar room.

"You don't understand. Let me show you!"

Suddenly there was an onslaught of images was projected before Kim and it was devastating. Aimil, no more than thirteen, fighting her father off and losing the battle. Aimil's blank face as he worked over her, the motions of his body unmistakable. Aimil on her knees before her father, leaning in... That's when the image shifted and it was Kim herself kneeling before Jack, who twisted his hand in her hair and pulled her painfully.

"No!" she said, cheeks burning and breathing difficult. "This is not real. Jack wouldn't... Your father may try and twist him, but Jack is good. He is good."

Aimil's face appeared to her and she laughed viciously, "You can hope, little girl. But right now that bastard is inside Jack and has been there for a while. How long do you think your _good_ man can stand it before he baser nature takes over? We're all born sinners, after all."

How long? The question reverberated through Kim's head. How long has Jack been under the influence of the ghost? How long has he been fighting it? All the times when he avoided her, was he merely trying to fight the vicious ghost with perverted nature? How long can he go on like this? The image of him whispering feverishly to her (Kim, baby, run, please) sprung forth and she nearly cried. He was strong then, it was her turn to be strong.

"Jack is strong. And he is good. And he- He l-l-loves me. I know that. Maybe as a friend and maybe more, but he does. He will stay, he will hold on, he will find a way."

* * *

"Guys?" Jack's hoarse voice reached them and they found themselves looking into Jack's brown eyes.

"Jack? Is that you? Is it over?" Rudy was ready to run, but stopped when Jack raised his hand in halting motion.

"Nnnooo... I can feel him still. He's distracted. Something got his attention. You- you shouldn't be around. I can't promise that I'd be able to hold him off much longer," Jack sounded tired and bone weary. "Tell me at least that Kim is far away from here?"

"She- she is in the house and- "

"What? No, no, no, no, no... She can't ... she shouldn't ... he will..." Jack sounded broken and frantic.

"She and Isla, they are trying to get rid of both Aimil and her dad simultaneously." Jerry was getting excited.

"Kim and Isla? Kim is trying to get rid of them? It's dangerous... She shouldn't and what if they fail?"

"Jack- "

"Wait!" Jack hissed and tilted his head as if hearing something only he could hear. "It's... It's her..." his voice filled with awe as he whispered. "She is... amazing. And so strong. Much stronger than-"

His face twisted as if something was hurting him and he shook his head, pleading _nonononono_ quietly.

"Please, don't listen... Please..."

Once again his entire face changed expression as it lit up and he got an intent look on his face.

"I'll stay. I'll hold on. I'll find a way."

His smile was beautiful...

It didn't last long.

A howl of either animal or strong wind pierced the room and the wind picked up again, whipping hair and disturbing things.

Jack's eyes turned white again and he contorted into strange shapes as battle raged inside him. It twisted his arms painfully and sinewy stood out in harsh relief as his teeth gnashed in constant snarling.

Jerry started his prayer again, Rudy following him soon afterwards. The wind threw the window open and Jack fell to his knees, body arching back in a near perfect bridge.

It was then that the smoke rose from his bloody cross and it took a shape of man. The spirit flew around, finding the invisible wall and screeching in a inhuman tembre that made Jerry's skin crawl. It darted frantically until it stumbled over the bowl and a candle.

It hissed and tried to move, but seemed stuck. The floating candle fell into water, it's wick extinguished and the wax quickly forming a shape.

They watched in silent fascination as the smoky spirit got absorbed into the wax shape, slowly expanding and taking a form of a man.

The silence that followed was only interrupted by the harsh breathing of all three occupants of the room. Jack was collapsed on the floor, unconscious.

* * *

Kim closed her eyes and with renewed fervor spoke.

"Ashes to ashes, Dust to dust, May the wind blow you, wandering ghost And clear the world of the living, Turn you to where you belong, And may you disappear without a trace."

The wind, that was constant all this time, picked up again and she could tell that enough water flooded the cellar that she was standing almost ankle deep in it, but she stayed the course. She could Aimil's cries over the wind, but there was a different tone to them. No longer sarcastic and angry and defiant, it sounded almost scared and then...

The wind formed a vortex and swirled into the circle and over the burial hill.

"Now!" she yelled and she and the Laird used the last sluggish drops of blood, from the cut that almost closed by then, to complete the circle.

The vortex disappeared into the stones and Milton dropped the last stone to cover it.

Laird Alistair walked over to the small mound and placed the cross over it.

"Rest in peace."

A/N: Phew, it's done. The ghosts are gone. Now, the aftermath.

Also, I wanted to show the difference between Jack's visions while being possessed (he experiences things as himself) and Kim, who only is shown things, but does not have the same emotional reaction. And if you noticed, Jack echoes Kim's words (I will hold on, I'll find the way). Kim is not possessed and is talking to Aimil, but Jack with one foot in the other-world hears her.


	20. Chapter 20

A/N: Thank you for reading. To one reviewer who left a plot idea: it sounds intriguing. I would like to know why such dangerous people were after Jack in the first place. Thank you for sharing your idea with me.

* * *

The House was quiet. Just quiet. There were no whispers or shadows or the faint sounds of dripping water.

Lady Fiona enjoyed this quietness: it was a long time since she experienced it. Her young guests were all huddled together over the sleeping body of Jack Brewer. What a brave young man. He stood up against the temptations and manipulations of the vicious ghost and withstood some serious struggle, but he emerged a victor.

In that he had help of so many that rightfully this victory was shared by them all. Her own husband, Alistair, played a role in the banishing of the poor troubled girl's soul. How proud he made her.

How proud she as of everyone involved...

Isla, standing tall against the winds and fog, was like a modern day druid priestess. She chanted in Gaelic and it was mesmerizing. And Fiona wasn't the only one mesmerized. Angus, a pillar of strength on any day, was just the support they needed. He looked at Isla in awe and added his baritone to the chant, making it all the more sonorous and beautiful. When the ritual was over, the small vortex of smoke and fog entered the stone ceremonial burial mound by the lake shore and Angus lifted a large stone to put over it. Fiona herself placed a silver cross over it and it was over.

Isla was shaken and confided that she was shown things, things that were disturbing as they were tragic. She worried about Kim and Jack. If she, Isla, was shown such things, who knew what those two had seen?

The three of them walked to the house to find its main door open and they entered the Turlann with trepidation.

They found Jack unconscious with Jerry and Rudy hovering by the bed. Rudy confirmed that it didn't appear as if Jack was in distress anymore, but he was pale, with fresh cut and scratches on his chest. Isla was on hand with a poultice of her own making and promised that it should heal without problem. Fiona was keen to see Alistair, and Jerry chose to stay with Jack as the rest of the group went to cellars.

She had never liked coming to this part of the house. It was always too dark, too dank, too creepy. It was still that: dark, dank and a little creepy, but no more than any other dark and dank basement of the old house. The prevailing creepy atmosphere shifted somehow and she was optimistic. They reached the older part of the cellar to find the shelves moved and signs of recent caving in. By now her anxiety rose high enough that she was about to start yelling in search of Alistair.

But as soon as she thought of that, they heard a sound of things being moved and Rudy quickly figured it was coming from behind the cave-in. The three men joined forces and dug out the pile of old stones and bits of mortar, which was soggy on the bottom. They broke through to find Milton's dirty face peering at them from the small opening. It took them no time to widen the hole large enough for Kim, Milton and Alistair to climb out of.

Fiona had never been happier to see her husband alive, if a little weary.

He kissed her soundly, as if they were sixteen, not sixty, and whispered to her, "I should never have doubted you, my dear."

"All's well that ends well."

Kim was asking Rudy and Angus about their success and it was clear how worried the young woman has been. She and Isla conferred with one another that both have seen and heard things from the ghosts and the two of them hugged in camaraderie born of adversity. Isla whispered quietly to Kim as they walked out of the cellars and Fiona only heard bits and pieces, but she was sure Isla was reassuring Kim that Jack was not permanently damaged, that he was strong and that she was proud of him fighting till the end.

Isla took off to the kitchen to brew something she promised would restore everyone's good spirits and help with the bone weariness they all felt.

Kim went to sit by Jack side, intent on staying there until he woke up. The rest of the Wasabi Gang joined her too. It was crowded but it seemed that the group drew strength from each other.

Fiona was sure she never was more tired in her life and yet the sleep was elusive. She and Alistair stayed in the kitchen, where Isla was for once not hiding her herbs and potions. She whipped something quickly and when Fiona tried it, she was reminded of the ginger and spice tea. Only this one was less sweet and with each sip, Fiona could feel her energy return. Alistair was equally restored and they shared their sides of the ritual.

"She was but a wee lass, that Aimil was. And Kim reckons that Aimil was with child when she died," he shook his head and sighed. "Such cruelty among men. And he hurt his own flesh and blood. I can't imagine such wickedness and hate."

"And yet she acted out of love. Despite what he did to her, she meant to protect. Too bad she got a little confused."

"I must say, Kim is one brave lass. She spoke to Aimil. Neither I nor Milton could hear Aimil, but we heard Kim. She stood her ground, despite what the ghost tried."

"She showed Kim what has been done to her. And what her father was doing to Jack. I know because I've seen it too," Isla shuddered delicately and Angus rubbed her shoulders.

"That lad is strong too. You should have seen him when the father grabbed Kim. He fought back and made it so she was freed. They are both strong. As strong as you."

Isla blushed at the open admiration in the young man's blue eyes and turned back to her brew.

"The hard part is done. Now we just wait for him to wake up."

* * *

Jack was in a meadow. He was sure he'd seen it before. He turned around and looked without recognition until he saw his own clothes. He was dressed in purple and yellow knight's outfit. There was a cape and a sword in sheath attached to his back. The memories flooded him and he remembered the day he and the Wasabi Warriors joined Milton in his LARP Kings game. He wondered where his mates were and looked around again. There was nothing but a peaceful meadow and him in his costume.

As soon as he thought so, the sky darkened and he found himself in the increasing fog, feeling cold and afraid.

 _Nononono, it can't be. You were gone!_

His bran screamed even as his hand went to the hilt of the sword and he pulled a great weapon, heavy and supple in his hand.

Only there was no one to fight. Shadows, gray and dark, flew at him and their touch was cold and fleeting. He tried to swipe at them, tried to pierce them, but they had no bodies and only cackled at his attempts. He fought the shadows anyway, growing tired and cold, but they were unaffected and seemed to grow in number. He fought on, angry and frustrated and not a little bit afraid.

"Arghhh!" he roared with another swipe of his sword and his arm shook with effort, tired and sweaty.

 _I can't hold on like this too much longer,_ he thought desperately. _Where are they?_

His question was answered when he heard a sound of multiple feet running and Jerry, Rudy, Milton and Kim burst on the clearing from the forest. Milton was garbed in his yellow checkered McKrupnick kilt, tall and uncharacteristically imposing. Jerry was as he was that day years ago - his face painted blue and his kilt black and red. They joined him in the fray, using axes and staves to fight off the shadows.

But it was Kim, who held Jack's attention. She was in her pink and lavender fairy outfit, with a tall pointed hat and a magic wand in hand. She expertly wove it complicated patterns, mumbling some Gaelic words and one by one the shadows began to disappear in the growing sunlight. Soon it was done. The shadows were gone and only the Wasabi Gang remained in the clearing.

Jack, still shaking from the effort and the adrenaline, sheathed his sword and thanked his friends and sensei. They smiled in good humor and pointed towards Kim, beautiful in her gossamer gown.

He approached her slowly, enjoying the moment, where the delicate and sparkling feeling of seeing her wasn't marred by the darkness and absolute urge to devour. He stopped a few feet away and watched as she smiled at him, her wand held loosely in her right hand.

"I am glad you are okay," she said. "I was worried."

"I was worried myself. It seemed like I was alone and they just kept coming at me."

"Did you see how brave our friends are? New and old."

"Yeah, thank you for coming."

"I admit, I was so scared, but they never faltered. They believed even when I myself didn't."

"Are you kidding me? You were magnificent. I didn't know that you were handy with wand and magic."

"Isla's really the one who deserves all the credit. She knows real magic. I just repeated what she told me to do. So, she is the real hero here. Her and- and you."

"Me? Are you sure? I was sure I was going to die or worse..."

"You are so strong. You stayed. You held on. You found the way."

Something about those words rang familiar to him and he thought of them again. Like a long buried memory of a dream, he heard the voice saying to him. _"He will stay, he will hold on, he will find a way."_

"You- You told me to and I did," he said and even though he didn't remember when he heard those words, he knew the truth in them. He did and would do it again.

"I want you to find the way, Jack. Please."

She looked at him with her bright eyes and placed one hand on his chest. He had a sense of deja vu.

Then the images rushed at him and he was gasping from the intensity of them. Scotland, Turlann, dreams, ghosts, Torray, Aimil, the awful images and even more awful feelings and then- There was Kim by the lake with her hand on his chest.

He stepped back like he was burned.

"How can you stand to be near me?" he choked and her eyes turned somber.

"I wish you knew how grateful I am that I am your friend. I always know that I will be safe with you."

He gave her an unimpressed look and she forestalled any further argument by raising her hand palm up. It was only now he saw that she had a strange sign drawn on her hand in reddish-brown.

"You have fought off the evil influences for so long. I nearly drowned twice and one of them I didn't even remember what I was doing. And you saved me then too. And you fought him to make him let go of me. And even when he was the strongest, you fought so you can warn me. You are very strong Jack. Please be strong enough to come to me."

He couldn't resist the plea in her voice and in her eyes and stepped back close to her. He held her hand and it was soft and warm. He waited, but the feeling of darkness didn't come so he felt safe enough to look at her. She was beautiful and radiant and he looked and looked, lost in the splendor of the delicate and sparkling feeling of seeing her, of being with her.

"Come back, Jack. I'm waiting. I'll be here and it's my turn to stay, to hold on, to find a way."

* * *

The night was waning and Isla's brew was fantastic. It was obvious that they were all physically tired, but it was equally obvious that none of them could get any sleep until Jack woke up. They all sat in the same room, crowding it, but it was a welcome sight to have all of them together.

Kim was sat nearest to Jack and every now and then she checked his forehead. There wasn't much she could do now. It was up to Jack's body to recover and for his mind to make sense of things transpired. Isla talked to Kim about it. She saw what Torray has shown Jack and she warned Kim that it was lewd and perverted and that it involved her. She saw a bit of that, much to her own discomfort, but Jack not only saw it - he felt it like Torray felt it when he imposed himself on Aimil. Km blanched at the sheer wickedness of such mind torture. Isla, seeing her sudden paleness, warned her that as uncomfortable as it was to Kim, it was unimaginably worse for Jack. He was likely to feel guilty and ashamed and it was imperative that Kim didn't let him hide in his shell after he woke up.

Kim sat by his side and looked at Jack. Who were they to each other now? Not just friends, but not a couple either. Would they ever become a couple? Would his shame and guilt stop them from becoming one? She almost laughed bitterly: they crushed on each other and seemingly moved on, only to be brought back together under the trying circumstances and now- now there was the issue of what the vindictive ghost did to Jack, poisoning him in ways she couldn't conceive.

She didn't let the doubt and fear take hold in her. After all, she and Jack managed to withstand these ghostly possessions and survived. They could survive this too.

So she took his hand and spoke her truth to him.

"I am glad you are okay," she said. "I was worried."

"Did you see how brave our friends are? New and old."

"I admit, I was so scared, but they never faltered. They believed even when I myself didn't."

"Isla's really the one who deserves all the credit. She knows real magic. I just repeated what she told me to do. So, she is the real hero here. Her and- and you."

"You are so strong. You stayed. You held on. You found the way."

"I want you to find the way, Jack. Please."

She placed her hand on his chest and she swore she saw him twitch under her touch.

"I wish you knew how grateful I am that I am your friend. I always know that I will be safe with you.

"You have fought off the evil influences for so long. I nearly drowned twice and one of them I didn't even remember what I was doing. And you saved me then too. And you fought him to make him let go of me. And even when he was the strongest, you fought so you can warn me. You are very strong Jack. Please be strong enough to come to me.

"Come back, Jack. I'm waiting. I'll be here and it's my turn to stay, to hold on, to find a way."

A/N: I hope you liked this. It is a little bit of a shortcut to have Jack deal with the trauma through dreams, but because in this fic such fantastical things already took place, I think it's an acceptable plot device to have a dream like that. The inspiration for the phrase that Kim is using and that Jack is hearing (hold on, stay, don't let go) comes from the song _Adagio._ There are an Italian and English versions of it. In the English one, the text is very emotional ( _If you know how to find me, if you know how to reach me, before this light fades away, before I run out of faith_ ) and the high point of the song is when the singer pleads **_"say you believe, make me believe, you won't let go."_** I heard it recently and was inspired to add this touch to my story.


	21. Chapter 21

They took shifts, waiting for Jack to wake; the first six hours crawled by. Rudy napped on a chaise in the bedroom while Jerry and Milton alternate sitting and pacing, exhausted but unable to sleep. Kim just sat where she was, unmoving and seemingly in deep thought. By hour eight, it's been thirty six hours since Kim slept and she was feeling it, but Jack was pale and still and she had to be there when he woke, she had to.

By hour forty three, guys alternated sleeping and eating. They brought food to Kim that she only drudgingly picked at it, barely tasting. Isla came every so often, Angus as her sentinel. He has dragged two more chairs into the room and they've set up post around the bed. Isla attended to Jack's various scrapes and cuts and it was reassuring to see it all heal very nicely. By hour forty seven, she slumped into an uneasy rest, annoyed by the weakness of her body.

Fifty one hours into Jack' rest, his breathing changed and he stirred against the sheets.

Kim slept through it, exhaustion winning out but Rudy was awake, smacking both her shoulder and Milton's to wake them before coming up closer to the bed, bending down as he waited.

Kim wished she could say she woke quickly, but sleep clung onto her, leaving her groggy and disoriented; it took her a moment to take inventory of everything. Once it sunk in, she was staggering to the bed, sitting heavily on the edge. Next to her, Rudy and Milton are practically vibrating with nervous energy, Rudy's hands fisted in the comforter. Jack's eyelashes keep fluttering like he was trying to open his eyes but couldn't quite win the battle and all of them waited, holding their breath until it seemed to work. Jack stared blearily at all of them, looking terribly young against the sheets and massive pillows he's been settled against.

"Jack? Hey, buddy, how are you feelin'?" Rudy leaned forward, slightly shaking with how much he was holding back, only to make a loud noise of shock when Jack reached out and took his hand, squeezing limply.

"Feels like I got run over with a semi," Jack said, words still slurred slightly. Then, with more feeling and a little more awareness, "Ouch."

* * *

It was terribly anti-climatic; there were no soft words, or declarations of love, or long looks. Jack squeezed Rudy's hand and accepted Jerry reaching over to ruffle his hair furiously in lieu of hugging him like he no doubt wanted to. Kim remained sitting there, suddenly anxious. She thought her and Jack had an unspoken consensus that their _thing_ would have to wait, but now that the immediate danger of ghosts and their influences was over, she wondered where it left them. Would Jack be strong enough to embark on a relationship? Would he want any? Would he want her? Would he trust himself with her again? He always prided himself on being able to protect friends from harm, not be the one to harm them.

She remained as still as possible, desperately trying to give Jack time to decide what he wanted to do and tried not to work herself up over something she couldn't help; whatever Jack decided, she'd abide. When Jack's sleepy eyes turned on her Kim smiled hesitantly and reached out her hand - the one that the ghost nearly broke earlier, the one with dark bruising around hurt knuckles - for Jack to take. The meaning wasn't lost on either of them; Jack sighed quietly and released Rudy's hand a moment so he could clasp her hand with both of his, squeezing weakly.

"Oh Jack," Kim said quietly, and lifted their combined hands to her forehead and pressing them against her brow. She exhaled shaky breath and tilted her face into the touch, when Jack shifted his hold and his hands slipped to cup her cheeks, tracing the dried tear track there. "It's good to see _you_ again."

For a moment, there was silence and then both Jerry and Milton broke it with shaky, nervous throat clearing. They must be embarrassed to witness them like this and Kim smiled at little, getting a response from Jack. He rolled his eyes at his friends, which they saw and it got chuckles from them, until they dissolved into true laughter. Rudy followed them. Jack was smiling. It was small and tired, but he tugged her down until her face was half-mashed into Jack' shoulder and a hand was wound in her hair (it's greasy, unwashed, Jack shouldn't-), fingers stroking gently.

It was enough.

* * *

Eventually, Kim realized they will have to address this... _thing_ between them. It didn't have a name yet, too fledgling and new to be anything more than a consideration based on what the last couple of weeks (has it been that short?) revealed. It may not even become a _thing;_ although Jerry and Milton certainly seemed to think so when it was brought up, because of course they did. They fought for Jack just as much as her and Isla, but they were also all so well acquainted with each other that support was able to circle right back around into gleeful teasing and brotherly mockery. After all they were teen boys and this was how they dealt with things.

Normally, such a thing would be directed at the both of them, but with Jack fast asleep in this too-large bed with Isla fussing over him, Kim was set to bear the brunt of their teasing until he woke. It started over breakfast meal a couple mornings later. Kim was studying the porridge in her bowl, a coffee cup in her other hand.

Across the room, Jerry and Milton were similarly enjoying the offerings of the Turlann kitchen. Kim was in that state where coffee stopped tasting like coffee and was approaching the feel of a sludge in her mouth. She swallowed it anyway, aware that she was doing it for the caffeine. Even porridge tasted like sawdust, but she ate a little of it anyway.

Finally, when she finished her cup, Jerry stretched languidly like a dark haired smug cat.

"I feel like I can safely say I told you so here," he said, and his tone was so pleased Kim couldn't even enjoy the knowledge of knowing that Jerry would be the first to break.

Kim put down the cup with a sigh, regretting she already finished it as it would have been a great distraction.

"I feel like you really do not need to say anything of the sort," Kim returned, watching Milton's head lift and his lips curl into a smile that was far too pleased to indicate that he intended to stay out of this verbal sparring match. Of course. "It could all have been the ghost influence, you know?"

"Uh, dude? Jack was in love with you for like, ever. Ever-ever." Jerry rested both elbows on the table and it took everything in Kim to resist telling him to take them off. "That ghostly mofo was totally full of shit on a lot of things, but that? I don't think that was of his making"

"Kimmy, c'mon. You know what both of us mean; don't pretend like you don't," Milton, the traitor, leaned across the table, arms crossed, and smirked. "I'd like to point out that it was obvious when he was so concerned for your well-being. You don't get to avoid this; the number of people who get live through an experience like that is-"

"No one gets to escape unaffected from an experience like this. His mind was poisoned by the ghost and," Kim interrupted before Milton could finish. She felt a momentary flash of guilt; but she wouldn't do this, not right now. Even if Jack were to return affections, even if Jack felt the same way and wished to explore... something with her, he had it much worse than her and he had to recover and, maybe, Kim would distract Jack from that. She could become a trigger that would make things worse. First and foremost, he had to wake up again. "-and I would hate to become something he has to deal with when he needs to recover."

"I mean... that's noble and all, but you ever think that maybe he deserves something he wants, too?" Rudy asked thoughtfully and it's enough that both Milton and Kim looked over at him. "Maybe you oughtta let him make a choice for himself, here."

The worst part was that Rudy was right. The second worst part was that Jerry was smirking again, looking a little proud and a lot smug as he shifted his attention to Kim, but before anyone can say anything else there was the sound of the dining room door opening. Kim sighed, expecting one of their hosts, but when she turned it was not one of the McKrupnicks or Isla.

Standing in the doorway, holding it like if he didn't, he'd tip over, was Jack.

"Uh. Am I interrupting?" Jack asked hesitantly, glancing between the four of them like he was not quite certain if he ought to turn around and trek back to his room or stay and figure out why all men in the room looked smug and Kim looks harried. "Isla said I should take a short walk, so-"

The room erupted into a flurry of movement; Rudy went to fetch something for breakfast, Milton rose and smacked Kim' shoulder to get her to go over and she was helpless to obey. There was the scrape of the chair over the ground but it was barely notable because all of Kim's attention was focused on Jack as he stood in the doorway. He looked - well, honestly, he looked like shit. He shouldn't even be up, shouldn't have walked all the way here even if it's a short enough distance, not with that level of weakness, but of course this was Jack and he was nothing if not painfully, annoyingly stubborn.

"I have a feeling that the short walk that Isla was encouraging you to take was around your room, not halfway across the mansion," Kim said before he can stop herself, watching Jack's lips twitch up in a clear indication of that being correct. Of course. Not even one day and Jack was already pushing boundaries. "Why do you choose to be obstinate?"

"Details. I made it, didn't I?" Jack said, waving off the concern, and Kim reached out to steady him, a hand on his arm, guiding him to the dining table. Of course - of course - Jerry has placed the extra seat terribly close to Kim's own and there was no way to move it without being obvious, especially when Rudy scooted over to place a bowl of oatmeal and mixed fruits in Jack's spot. Kim shoudl be irritated, but it didn't matter right now.

What mattered was that Jack leaned heavily into her side, tightly winding an arm around Kim's waist as they made their way over to the table. She felt him squeeze her waist a little and her earlier worries abated a little.

"Not interrupting anything, am I?"

"No, of course not. Nothing important," Kim reassured hurriedly, settling him in the chair so he could make his way over to where the cups were and fill one with coffee, doctoring it with enough cream and sugar to make teeth rot. She settled it by Jack's bowl and then placed herself down back at her seat, holding her empty coffee mug so she didn't do anything else with his hands like reach out to Jack and reassure herself that he was really there. "Should you really be up and moving so soon?"

"Yeah, Kim's right - you took a pretty hard hit and you gotta take care of yourself, man," Jerry said, spoon in his oatmeal, pushing it back and forth idly. Blessedly, the prior thread of conversation was seemingly lost in the concern. "We were all - we were real worried about you."

Jack wound his hands around his coffee cup, unconsciously mirroring Kim and for a moment, Kim was caught admiring his hands, the way he held the cup. She shook herself of the ridiculous thought after a pause, turning her attention to her plate.

"If I stayed in that room any longer I was going to grow attached to the bed and one of you would've had to peel me off of it. Trust me, I'm fine."

No one believed that for a goddamned minute but they also didn't argue it, knowing better.

"Jerry is right. You had all of us quite worried," Kim said quietly, not missing the way Jack flinched. She hadn't meant it to come across as chastising, but it didn't matter, did it?

Jack saw things that he probably could never unsee. He felt things that were terrible and painful.

"Okay, uh. Can we... not be weirdly quiet here because I know you guys were talking before I got here." Jack added two teaspoons of sugar to his oatmeal and then seemingly forgot and add another two. Rudy made a low noise watching it and Kim realized suddenly that Jack was doing it on purpose; Jack's lips twitched up into a smile and it looked so good that it almost hurt. "C'mon. I want some normal conversation. It's been a while since I talked about random things."

"Yeah, okay then. Rudy sucks at church door flipping. Milton can roll boulders. I can eat pies with the best of Scottish eaters and Kim's, like, an apprentice witch apparently," Jerry said before anyone else could say anything.

Rudy scoffed, Milton preened, Jerry shoved scone in his mouth.

Kim didn't blush, she was beyond being embarrassed by the clumsy compliment, but the tips of her ears were warm and she wanted to look down. Then, because this was Jerry and he never knew to leave well enough alone, "So uh. It's - just you in there, right?

 _"Jerry,"_ Kim said under her breath, chastising, but it was a legitimate question that has been lingering this whole time. There's been no indication of Torray since the banishing, so it was very unlikely something's slipped past them, but she understood the need to ask.

"No, it's fine. It's just me in here. I felt him go and when I woke up - it just feels...different. I'd know, if he were still in here." Jack folded his arms onto the table and started picking at his oatmeal; Kim tried her best not to worry about his appetite. No doubt the general exhaustion factored into his lack of it. "I just..wanted to say thank you guys. For what you did and how fast it was. I thought- I thought he'd-"

He didn't need to finish the sentence for them to fill in the blanks. They could assume what he thought: locked up in his own head while Torray was able to control things and unable to do anything about it.

"You're fine, Jack. We're just glad that you're back," Jerry reached across the table and they knocked their fists together gently, a small smile growing on Jack's face in response to the familiar gesture.

Things weren't perfect right now, but they were getting better.

A/N: So, at the very least Jack is not avoiding her and trusts himself enough for small touches. They really do need to talk properly about their _thing_ without others present.


	22. Chapter 22

When Jack woke up on the second morning after the banishment, he could tell he was alone immediately. Whether he recognized it at the time, he got used to the subtle signs of presence of other people. Rustling of clothes, murmured conversation, sometimes just breathing. Right now he could tell he was alone

Still, he looked to his left to see if maybe Kim was in the armchair sleeping. She wasn't and he felt disappointment rise in him.

He was still quite weakened from the ordeal and he asked Isla if it was normal. She laughed that normal wasn't anywhere near close to describing this situation, but admitted that she and Kim both felt exhaustion after the process. In his case, since he housed the ghost for a while, his exhaustion would understandably take longer to recover from. She gave him some herbal brews and applied some homemade poultice on his cuts. He was told that a small criss-cross scratching on his chest was the result of Rudy's knife handy-work and his own clawing. The skin looked scraped raw, but Isla's ointment was doing its work and he could already see the scabs drying over. Same was true for his wrists and a bruises on his jawline.

Every little would reminded him of the possession he just lived through and hoped that there would be no permanent scarring.

He didn't want to be reminded of his failure.

He lay quietly, his thoughts jumping and bouncing from topic to topic - summer heat, light hunger, general tiredness he still felt despite full night sleep - until he could not force his mind away from going over the last week's events.

The memories of their arrival to Turlann felt like happened in another life and he hardly could credit that he was the same young man. One week and his life was forever changed. He was forever changed. Everyone in his house was changed. Him, McKrupnicks, Jerry, Milton, Rudy, and ... Kim.

The moment he thought of her and his mind recalled her appearance from yesterday - tired, crying, holding his hand, still so very beautiful - he waited for the dreadful darkness to reappear. It didn't rise in him like a waive - like it used to before the banishing - but the memories from when Torray tortured him with disgusting visions, came to him soon enough and he recoiled with guilt.

Despite his efforts, he couldn't stop thinking about Kim and, in addition to guilt, he felt growing concern about her well-being. It was irrational because he knew she was fine, but his mind drew images of her barreling from her bathroom in only a towel and bruised, or her walking to the lake in heavy thunderstorm.

Was she okay? What if something was lingering here, waiting to pounce on her? He would never forgive himself for not believing her sooner. So much of their problems would have been avoided if he believed her.

He was almost resolved to getting up, when Isla stopped by with that poultice in her hand.

"Good morning, Jack. How're you feeling?"

"Better. Wish I was stronger to get off this bed," he replied.

She smiled at him coyly, "Oh? Have somewhere to be? Or someone to see?"

He looked down, flushing at being so easily read.

"I'd say start small. Take a turn about this room first. See, if you can do it. No need to rush this recovery."

He must have looked impatient enough for her to continue, "She is fine. She is downstairs in the kitchen having breakfast with others."

He stayed prone until she was done with her ministrations and then he was alone again.

With his guilty and anxious thoughts.

He tried to distract himself and even opened a book that Milton left here, but all he could see was Kim and her bruises and the feeling of worry and concern grew with each passing minute until he couldn't take it anymore.

He had to see her to make sure she was fine.

So he dragged himself out of the bed and down the hallways, until he was in kitchen, apparently having interrupted some conversation.

It was good to reassure his friends that Torray was gone forever. And to soak in the normalcy that was being a Wasabi Warrior.

* * *

Jack could feel the need to talk to Kim like it was a physical being sitting next to him, unacknowledged. He knew that she felt it too. In fact, everyone felt it, because one by one his friends left the room, leaving him alone with her.

She gave a weary sigh and then looked at him apologetically and suddenly he knew exactly what has been the topic of conversation that he interrupted earlier. It seemed that the Wasabi Gang talked to Kim about them. And they were probably their usual tactful selves. He felt sympathy for her and it was his turn to give Kim apologetic look.

"I'm sorry..." "Sorry..."

They spoke simultaneously and then stopped at the same time and it was a little comical, so next came concurrent embarrassed laughter, which managed to break the ice for them.

He gestured to her to talk first.

"I was gonna say that I'm sorry about our friends. They can't leave things well enough alone."

"I gathered as much. Is this what we call it now? A thing?" he said with a smile to let her know he was only teasing.

She had blushed a little and looked down, "For lack of a better alternative..."

The silence grew a tad too long again. Long enough for him to get stuck in his thoughts and for her to become uncomfortable again.

"I understand if you don't want to talk about any of it," she finally said and he admired her courage at the moment.

"I do, I think. I just-" he stopped to think again and then the memories of what had happened came to him in a bright collage of disturbing images and he paused to catch his breath, "And I understand if you don't ever want to speak to me again."

She looked up startled.

"Why would I ever-? Oh..." the realization of what he was implying came over and her face tightened a little. "If you think I would stop talking to you after everything we've done to get you back, then you are seriously wrong."

To his alarm, she moved and slid her chair closer to his, to sit near him - too close to make him feel comfortable, too far to be reassuring. She didn't look at him, staring at her feet, hands in her lap.

He didn't know how to feel, let alone what to say. Every time he looked over at her, tried to say something, he saw those awful images of her kneeling and then those images morphed into visions of Aimil, too young and too helpless. One thing he was grateful was that he no longer felt what Torray felt.

But looking at her, sitting next to him with a thin, uncertain smile on her face now, he felt something much stronger. Guilt didn't even begin to cover this sick self-loathing he felt down to his very core.

"I'm so sorry, Kim," he croaked.

She quirked her mouth and fell into silence, thinking over something.

"I would tell you that you have nothing to feel sorry for," Kim said, breaking the silence just before it became oppressive, "but I don't think you would accept that. I want to say that I do not blame you, but I don't think you would believe me."

"Then why are you here?" he winced at his own words. It wasn't harsh, but it still came out wrong. Sort of. He should want her to leave him. Instead, he wanted her to stay and he felt even .ore guilt over that.

She finally turned to face him at that, but she didn't look at him with surprise, or hurt. Kim instead locked eyes, her gaze hardened steel and deadly serious, and he was pinned, helpless, beneath it.

"For you," she said, "I'm here for you, Jack."

The breath caught in his throat.

She was sitting close enough so he could catch the scent of her. It was light and floral and herbal, like summer and meadows, and it reminded him of the beautiful grounds outside. He also remembered the smell of stagnant water and dank air and the feel of her skin under harsh pressure of unforgiving fingers. He felt dizzy, weak and sick, wrestling painful, sparking bursts of affection that bubble under his skin with waves of churning, nauseous guilt.

"He- I- almost hurt you," Jack said in a hoarse whisper, once he finally unstuck his throat. Her fingers flexed against against her side but she didn't look away.

"You didn't," she said it with decisive finality, like that was all she needed to say, like they could all move on, now. He wished that was true.

"It was close," he reminded her. It was close because the spirit inside that pulled him around like a puppet was cruel enough to trick his mind into imagining _her_ in all those scenarios. Made him feel all of those dark emotions. So he sat still unsure if he could vocalize just how sick and disturbing those hours have been for him.

Kim's face broke into a small smile, "Not that close. And you were strong enough to break free and stop before there was any real damage done."

His eyes flicked down to her wrist and the way she drew in her next breath meant she noticed, "Whatever else you thought you saw, it was just sick mind games and you successfully broke the connection several times on your own."

"But not enough to get him to leave on my own," he said.

"...No," she allowed, reluctantly, "But consider that I alone was not enough to battle Aimil. McKrupnicks had years, centuries and yet they tried and failed to get rid of this particular problem. Isla says the spirits grew stronger the longer they fed on negative energies and emotions. One man is not an army, Jack. And this problem needed an army to resolve."

"I hate that I was a liability," Jack said quietly.

Kim shifted, clearly uneasy, but her voice was firm, "You weren't the only one affected. We all were. So, you're not a liability. What happened was…" she trailed off, bit at her bottom lip for a split-second. "It was -"

"Dangerous," he interrupted. Depraved. Kim started protesting but he kept going. "You would have been much safer if I wasn't here. All of you," he amended quickly.

"Jack..." she dragged his name with exasperation and all his confused emotions spilled then, with anger winning for the moment.

"I didn't believe you. Or Milton. Or Isla. I was boorish, and jealous, ungrateful and a jerk. I avoided you while you battled all this on your own and I- I- craved you all the time, like the worst pervert. And I- You don't know that, but when he- when he showed me- things... I felt what he felt, you understand? I felt all his nasty, sick, disgusting emotions. And they we're directed at you! And, now, when I am awake, I can't seem to stay away from you. I constantly worry about you and I want to make sure you're safe. But, you, you should recoil upon seeing me!"

"You wiI not convince me into hating you," she hissed. Her voice rose to match his angry tone, "Even if that's what you want from me. Why can't you see-"

The doors seemed to creak as if being opened and, for a split second, Jack saw three worried, peering faces.

"It's fine! We are fine," Kim said and the doors closed again.

They stared awkwardly at each other, in the hollow, ringing silence that followed. It was almost hilarious; he'd laugh, if he felt like he could ever again. She closed her eyes briefly, took a deep breath. He rubbed at the back of his neck with his hand and drew in a ragged one of his own.

"I'm sorry," he said, before she can.

"No." Kim shook her head. "The fault is mine, please." She glanced away. "You've been through terrible things at the hands of Torray. And made to suffer through something like this twisted, and now, it is seemingly affecting your perception of self..." She swallowed, eyes settling back on him. "My anger was misplaced. I was... afraid."

"Afraid?"

She nodded, hesitantly. "I can't say that my experience with Aimil was as bad as yours. She had shown me things..." Her voice was fraught with pain and discomfort and sympathy so raw his heart ached, "She had never had her chance at happiness. To be with someone that she could love... And she didn't torture me with sick visions until the very end, but she tried to kill me. And then you were in danger and I was - still am - afraid. It hurts to even consider losing chance with someone that I…" She paused. He watched in fascination as her face paled and then blushed again. "Someone that I care about very much."

 _Care about very much._ Jack blinked at her.

Kim continued.

"So, no, I won't be going anywhere until I know that I made my best effort with the chance we- I got." She swallowed and went on, "And even if it comes to nothing, I would stay because we are friends. Always have been."

It was reassuring in a way he didn't realize he needed. But the guilt still squirmed inside his guts, thick and terrible.

"I just... I keep thinking," he said, low, trying to get the words out before he could stop himself, "What if I somehow have the spillover from those feelings? What if I could never touch you and not feel those ugly urges again? And I- I don't trust myself-"

His voice broke.

Kim's eyes went wide with surprise, but he kept going, forcing the words past the thick lump in his throat, "... Myself with you. And if did something to you, because I couldn't control those emotions, I couldn't stand it. Because I wasn't... I wasn't strong enough. Because I am weak."

The words felt like expelling something poisonous; his throat felt freer, his chest less sore. There was only silence, for a while, when he finished, and Kim was staring at him. He couldn't meet her gaze. He heard her move closer, then jolted at the unexpected weight of her hand resting on his right arm. After a moment, she smoothed it up his collarbone, every inch of his skin sparking delicately at her touch, up his neck, until she was gently cupping the side of his face with her hand, turning his head until he was looking at her again.

She was close enough that he could see the flecks of black in the deep brown of her eyes. He could feel the heat of her, warm and bright and gentle. He couldn't see anything but her, beautiful face and golden hair.

 _Kim._

"Jack," his name, perfect on her tongue, "you are far from weak."

She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him close.

"Is that okay?' she whispered.

He could only nod.

It was so sweet and tender and strong it hurt, a soft, terrible ache that flooded his chest until he was nearly bursting. He was afraid at first, terrified, but she didn't let go. Eventually, he let himself hold her, his hand trembling against her shoulders, tried to draw her closer even though there wasn't any space left between them.

"It will be alright," she whispered, feather-light against his ear, and he squeezed his eyes shut and held on to her. "We'll go slow. As slow as we need to. You and this - are too precious to rush into."

And he agreed. She was too precious, this delicate feeling was too precious.

So, he pulled her even tighter, enjoying the delicate and sparkling feeling, clear of all darkness. He dared to hope then that they would be fine.

A/N: I can end the story here or add one more epilogue chapter. In any case, I wanted to thank you for reading and reviewing.


	23. Chapter 23

A/N: Absolute schmaltz. Thank you for reading and commenting. I love doing this and your reviews is a reward to an already satisfying experience.

* * *

Kim texted Jack when she finished her shift at the hospital. He still had his own shift at the dojo and she sighed thinking that she probably wouldn't see him again today. Now that they were back in school and had worked hard on their grades and extra curriculars and tried to save money for college it was harder and harder to find time to be together.

She was making her way to her car when he sent his terse response: _Keep the window open._

Kim smiled at the text, returning the phone to her pocket and walking faster to the car.

If she thought about how strange it was that it was almost routine for Jack to show up through the window of her room, she shrugged it off as 'their thing.' There were many little details that fell into that category.

'Their thing...' She smiled at the expression. Ever since that fateful trip to Scotland, she and Jack referred to their relationship as 'their thing' more often than not. Of course, it was mostly in joking and passing. She liked to think it was because what they meant for each other could not be reduced to mere boyfriend/girlfriend labels. Sometimes she thought that Jack was too grateful to have a chance at a relationship with her and would not deign to call it simply 'dating.' And sometimes she thought sadly that Jack was still unsure he deserved any chance with her and would not dare to call their relationship anything at all as if afraid to somehow jinxed them.

Those moments came less and less often.

Not long after Jack sent the text, she heard the sounds of someone climbing up the tree outside her window and she saw his face pop up in the glass.

"Enough space in here for me?" he asked, hovering on cill as Kim rolled her eyes and moved over to her bed. Her room wasn't tiny, just one of the smallest in the house. But, it had its own bathroom and Kim appreciated it more and more each day. Jack slithered in with the natural grace of an athlete and soon they were laid out on her bed side by side, bodies close from shoulders to their feet. Well, her foot and his shin. Jack kept growing and now towered over her.

As usual, he didn't initiate any touching.

It was another one to be labeled 'their thing.' Jack was unfailingly a gentleman and always waited for her to start any intimate contact. Although, he was confident enough in himself to hold her hand and hug her close to himself in public.

Which he did often enough. A vestige of the fear he felt since Scotland: he was worried about her to the point of distraction and being close to her, or at least to be in her presence, was how he dealt with it. He rationalized that her 'sensitivity' to the otherworldly beings might exhibits itself in America as well and he wasn't going to let it slip past his notice. She didn't mind. She herself was often worried about him: not that he would be possessed again, but that he would fall into the dark thoughts about his own imagined failures.

She shifted closer to him and pressed a light kiss to his jaw, where she could reach him. He tensed and she pulled back to take a look at him. He was looking at her and his eyes were dark and soft.

"Okay?" she whispered and almost laughed. Another little bit of 'their thing.'

"I think so. But you should it again, so we can confirm it," he said seriously, but laughter danced in his eyes and she giggled and stretched up to kiss him properly now.

"Still okay?" was said against his lips.

"Yeah..." Jack's voice dropped lower in that moment and she shivered at that.

They were still side by side, but the angle was off and her neck strained to keep contact like that. She made a frustrated little huff, causing Jack to smile - a smile she felt rather than saw. She almost wanted to glare at him, when he pulled her closer and gently lifted her to place her over him.

This was new for them and Jack made it happen, so she was caught between the desire to keep kissing him and the wonder at this development. She must have hesitated a fraction too long, because his hands dropped from where he was holding her hips.

"This okay?" it was his turn to ask and she saw doubt in those warm eyes.

"Better than okay," she smiled back and went for another kiss.

The angle was much more improved now.

* * *

She was reading her texts, when she felt a hand on her shoulder. She didn't even have to look to know it was Jack. They usually met by the lockers to go to lunch together.

"Something's up?" he nodded at her phone.

"Nah... Just Isla telling me about how cold it is in Turlann right now. She's jealous we don't have to bundle up in three layers in winter."

His face grew somber and she bumped him with her shoulder, "Hey. You alright?"

"No, just... I wonder if I could ever hear words like Scotland or Turlann or ghosts without immediately thinking about _that."_

"Well, if it makes you feel any better, I always feel uneasy when I'm near lakes or ponds. For the same reasons."

He was now more concerned than sad, "Do yo keep that locket that Isla gave you?"

"Of course, Jack," she refrained from rolling her eyes at his worry. "It's on me always. And you are here to keep an eye on me."

"Always," he vowed easily, but no less seriously. "I'll always be here."

Kim blushed and wondered if he knew what he was doing to her with those kind of words. He was serious and she believed him, but had to wonder how long this 'always' would last. As it was, her heart was hopelessly lost to him and she wanted 'their thing' to last forever.

* * *

Kim was looking at the letter in her hands and felt like the bottom of her stomach fell. She was lightheaded and almost nauseous. If she could, she would swoon, but she didn't want to attract attention of Jack and her friends.

"You alright?" predictably it was Jack who noticed her slightly stunned expression. He moved one palm to test the temperature on her forehead and she was very near embarrassing herself by crying at the sweet caring gesture.

"Uhhnnn... I'm fine. Just, you know, girls' stuff," she mumbled and shot out of the booth and into the bathroom.

Once there - and it really was a testament to how distressed she was that she willingly went into Phil's bathrooms - she used a wet paper towel as a makeshift compress and pressed it against her forehead and back of the neck. It helped a little, enough for her to pull the letter again and look at the innocent texts.

"It is with great pleasure that we offer you a place at the Otai Academy this coming school year. Please respond-" the letters ran together and stopped making sense as her emotions overtook her again.

She almost jumped in fright when the door opened and she saw Milton's face in the doorway.

"What are you doing here?" she struggled to remain polite, but her emotions were running high.

"I can ask you the same thing. And if you don't want Jack barging in here, you better collect yourself and be ready to smile like nothing happened." Milton said mildly and then gave her an apologetic smile, "You practically ran to the bathroom and he is worried."

Of course, he noticed her weirdness and now is worried. Probably thinks it's something dangerous, like ghosts.

"Did something happen, Kim?" Milton asked gently and she couldn't stop her own nod. "What is it?"

"It's Otai," she proffered him her letter. "They are offering me a spot."

There was a long silence and she appreciated that Milton thought about this news - about implications of this news thoroughly.

"Are you going to accept?"

"I- I don't know..." she exhaled a heavy breath. "I just don't know. If it was last year, my answer would have been almost definitely 'yes,' but now... Now, I'm not so sure."

Milton knew what Kim was saying, what she was weighing in her mind.

"You'll know the right answer, Kim. Think and decide, but right now you have to come back before Jack and Jerry come here with a cross and a Bible verse."

She smiled at the jest and together they went back.

She saw Jack's worried eyes almost immediately and smiled at him, floored to see the palpable relief in them...

The next day she went to the post office to send her reply. The whole evening before and half the night she spent awake weighing her options, all the pros and contras and when the morning came, so did her answer. It was a light heart that she was placing the postage on the largish envelope.

When she stepped out,s he saw Jack lounging on the bench near the entrance.

"How did you-? Was it Milton?" she asked mildly, not surprised to find him here.

"It was your skittish behavior and the tell-tale envelope. You forge, but I received a similar one myself some time ago," his tone was neutral, but it was a studied indifference and she felt bad for keeping it from him. He was worried. Just like she was worried when he got his Otai letter.

She sat next to him and put her head on his shoulder and slid one hand into his. She squeezed it tightly, "Sorry for not telling you. I was- I don't know, but I guess, confused?"

He squeezed her hand back, "I get it. And I would be okay with whatever you decide, promise."

She should have been elated that her boyfriend was so understanding and supportive, but instead her heart seized a little to realize that he was willing to let her go because it could be better for her.

"I decided to decline their offer-" his head whipped so fast to look at her, she own head moved by his motion. She was looking directly into his eyes when she finished, "I realized that there are more important things."

She couldn't recall exactly if these were his words to her when it was his turn to decline Otai, but his smile told her that she got her message through.

Their kiss was the one that he started and it was a little too deep given the circumstances - it was morning and they were in front of the post-office - but they didn't care.

"You sure?" she whispered against her lips.

"Absolutely. I want to be here, with you."

"I knew you had crush on me even then," he said jokingly, but his eyes were sincere and open and vulnerable.

"So did you," she smiled back.

"I still do. In fact, I can do better than that. I- I love you."

She swore she could see blush rising in his cheeks, but she was too in the moment to even take proper notice.

"I love you too, Jack."

Their kiss was less heated now, but held a promise in it that she hoped would carry on.

Always.

A/N: I received a request for Kim/OC story. I have never thought of doing one like that, but there is definitely an advantage to doing a completely AU story. Any one else interested in a story with OC? Maybe some suggestions as to the plot?


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